'You're late,' said the Cat. 'I'm afraid you've lost your chance.'
'I took the first chance I got,' said the King. 'Let me in, and let me see her.'
He had been so busy all these years trying to find the bright white light of his dreams that he had not noticed that his hair had gone gray long ago.
So the Cat let him in, and led him up the winding stair to the room where the Princess, very quiet, lay on her white bed waiting for death to come, for she was very tired.
The old King stumbled across the bar of moonlight on the floor, flung down a clanking wallet, and knelt by the bed in the deep shadow, saying:
'Oh, my dear own Princess, I have come at last.'
'Is it really you?' she said, and gave him her hands in the shadow. 'I hoped it was Death's footstep I heard coming up the winding stair.'
'Oh, did you hope for death,' he cried, 'while I was coming to you?'
'You were long in coming,' said she, 'and I was very tired.'
'My beautiful dear Princess,' he said, 'you shall rest in my arms till you are not tired any more.'
