The
prince turned and kicked the little creature.
At the instant, he felt a sharp prick in his
little finger, like a pin prick.
"What nonsense!" said the prince to
himself. "Am I not king of the whole
land? May I not kick my own dog, if I
choose? What evil is there in that?"
A silver voice spoke in his ear: "The
king of the land has a right to do good,
but not evil; you have been guilty of bad
temper and of cruelty to-day; see that
you do better to-morrow."
The prince turned sharply, but no one
was to be seen; yet he recognized the voice
as that of Fairy Candide.
He followed her advice for a little, but
presently he forgot, and the ring pricked
him so sharply that his finger had a drop
of blood on it. This happened again and
again, for the prince grew more self-willed
and headstrong every day; he had some
bad friends, too, who urged him on, in the
hope that he would ruin himself and give
them a chance to seize the throne. He
treated his people carelessly and his servants
cruelly, and everything he wanted
he felt that he must have.
The ring annoyed him terribly; it was
embarrassing for a king to have a drop
of blood on his finger all the time! At
last he took the ring off and put it out
of sight. Then he thought he should be
perfectly happy, having his own way; but
instead, he grew more unhappy as he grew
less good.
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