Bowed with sorrow, he went back to the
city. At each step he hoped to wake and find it all a dream, but the
people and streets were real.
He thought of the Princess, and remembered the gold box she had given
to him. It might be that he was under some cruel enchantment, and that
this box contained the charm to break the spell. He eagerly raised
the cover, and a purple vapor escaped and left the box empty. To his
alarm, he noticed that the hand that held it had shriveled and grown
suddenly old. Trembling with horror, he ran to a stream of water which
ran down from the mountain, and saw reflected in its waters the face
of a mummy.
He crawled fearfully back to the village, and no one recognized him
as the strong youth who had entered it a few hours before. Nearly
exhausted; he finally reached the shore, where he sat wearily on a
rock and cried to the turtle. But he called to it in vain; the turtle
never came, and soon his quavering voice was hushed in death.
Before he died, the people of the village gathered about him and
listened to his strange story. Long afterward they told their children
of the young man who, for the love of his parents, left a marvelous
palace in the sea, and a Princess more beautiful than the day.
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