In the train rode the Prince of Moonshine, dressed in silver, and
with no colour in his face.

As the bridal chariot approached one of the city gates, two black
ravens hovered over it, and then flew away, and settled on a tree.

Good Luck was sitting under the tree to see his godson's triumph, and
he heard the birds talking above him.

"Has the Prince of Gold no friend who can tell him that there is a
loose stone above the archway that is tottering to fall?" said they.
And Good Luck covered his face with his mantle as the Prince drove
through.

Just as they were passing out of the gateway the stone fell on to the
Prince's head. He wore a casque of pure gold, but his neck was broken.


"We can't have all this expense for nothing," said the King:
so he married his daughter to the Prince of Moonshine. If one
can't get gold one must be content with silver.


"Will you come to the funeral?" asked Dame Fortune of the godfather.

"Not I," replied Good Luck. "I had no hand in _this_ matter."

The rain came down in torrents. The black feathers on the ravens'
backs looked as if they had been oiled.