Prince Michael， of the Electorate of Valleluna， saton his favourite bench in the park. The coolness of theSeptember night quickened the life in him like a rare，tonic wine. The benches were not filled； for park loungers，with their stagnant blood， are prompt to detect and flyhome from the crispness of early autumn. The moonwas just clearing the roofs of the range of dwellings thatbounded the quadrangle on the east. Children laughed andplayed about the fine-sprayed fountain. In the shadowedspots fauns and hamadryads wooed， unconscious of thegaze of mortal eyes. A hand organ—Philomel by the graceof our stage carpenter， Fancy—fluted and droned in aside street. Around the enchanted boundaries of the littlepark street cars spat and mewed and the stilted trainsroared like tigers and lions prowling for a place to enter.
And above the trees shone the great， round， shining faceof an illuminated clock in the tower of an antique publicbuilding.
Prince Michael’s shoes were wrecked far beyond theskill of the carefullest cobbler. The ragman would havedeclined any negotiations concerning his clothes. The twoweeks’ stubble on his face was grey and brown and red andgreenish yellow—as if it had been made up from individualcontributions from the chorus of a musical comedy. Noman existed who had money enough to wear so bad a hatas his.
Prince Michael sat on his favourite bench and smiled. Itwas a diverting thought to him that he was wealthy enoughto buy every one of those close-ranged， bulky， windowlitmansions that faced him， if he chose. He could havematched gold， equipages， jewels， art treasures， estates andacres with any Croesus in this proud city of Manhattan，and scarcely have entered upon the bulk of his holdings.
He could have sat at table with reigning sovereigns. Thesocial world， the world of art， the fellowship of the elect，adulation， imitation， the homage of the fairest， honoursfrom the highest， praise from the wisest， flattery， esteem，credit， pleasure， fame—all the honey of life was waitingin the comb in the hive of the world for Prince Michael，of the Electorate of Valleluna， whenever he might chooseto take it. But his choice was to sit in rags and dinginesson a bench in a park. For he had tasted of the fruit of thetree of life， and， finding it bitter in his mouth， had steppedout of Eden for a time to seek distraction close to theunarmoured， beating heart of the world.
These thoughts strayed dreamily through the mindof Prince Michael， as he smiled under the stubble of hispolychromatic beard. Lounging thus， clad as the poorestof mendicants in the parks， he loved to study humanity.
He found in altruism more pleasure than his riches， hisstation and all the grosser sweets of life had given him. Itwas his chief solace and satisfaction to alleviate individualdistress， to confer favours upon worthy ones who hadneed of succour， to dazzle unfortunates by unexpected andbewildering gifts of truly royal magnificence， bestowed，however， with wisdom and judiciousness.
And as Prince Michael’s eye rested upon the glowingface of the great clock in the tower， his smile， altruistic asit was， became slightly tinged with contempt. Big thoughtswere the Prince’s； and it was always with a shake of hishead that he considered the subjugation of the world tothe arbitrary measures of Time. The comings and goingsof people in hurry and dread， controlled by the little metalmoving hands of a clock， always made him sad.
By and by came a young man in evening clothes and satupon the third bench from the Prince. For half an hourhe smoked cigars with nervous haste， and then he fellto watching the face of the illuminated clock above thetrees. His perturbation was evident， and the Prince noted，in sorrow， that its cause was connected， in some manner，with the slowly moving hands of the timepiece.
His Highness arose and went to the young man’s bench.”I beg your pardon for addressing you，” he said， “but Iperceive that you are disturbed in mind. If it may serveto mitigate the liberty I have taken I will add that I amPrince Michael， heir to the throne of the Electorate ofValleluna. I appear incognito， of course， as you may gatherfrom my appearance. It is a fancy of mine to render aid toothers whom I think worthy of it. Perhaps the matter thatseems to distress you is one that would more readily yieldto our mutual efforts.”
The young man looked up brightly at the Prince.
Brightly， but the perpendicular line of perplexity betweenhis brows was not smoothed away. He laughed， and eventhen it did not. But he accepted the momentary diversion.
“Glad to meet you， Prince，” he said， good humouredly.
“Yes， I’d say you were incog. all right. Thanks for youroffer of assistance—but I don’t see where your buttinginwould help things any. It’s a kind of private affair， youknow—but thanks all the same.”
Prince Michael sat at the young man’s side. He was oftenrebuffed but never offensively. His courteous manner andwords forbade that.
“Clocks，” said the Prince， “are shackles on the feet ofmankind. I have observed you looking persistently at thatclock. Its face is that of a tyrant， its numbers are false asthose on a lottery ticket； its hands are those of a buncosteerer， who makes an appointment with you to your ruin.
Let me entreat you to throw off its humiliating bonds andto cease to order your affairs by that insensate monitor ofbrass and steel.”
“I don’t usually，” said the young man. “I carry a watchexcept when I’ve got my radiant rags on.”
“I know human nature as I do the trees and grass，”
said the Prince， with earnest dignity. “I am a master ofphilosophy， a graduate in art， and I hold the purse of aFortunatus. There are few mortal misfortunes that I cannotalleviate or overcome. I have read your countenance，and found in it honesty and nobility as well as distress.
I beg of you to accept my advice or aid. Do not beliethe intelligence I see in your face by judging from myappearance of my ability to defeat your troubles.”