He read my thoughts, and said, "This water is untransferable. Each of
us must have his own jewel."
"Then," I replied, "if your Prince left those jewels to you at his
departure, and has not returned since, how can his followers have
increased, if this token is essential to them, and, indeed, as you
intimated, an inducement to many to enlist under his banner?"
"It is free to all, and yet a secret," he replied. "Whenever any one
desires to enlist in our Prince's service, he must repair alone, before
daybreak, to a lonely beach on our shores, and wait there for what
the King will send. There, when the sun rises, not always the first
morning, or the second, or the third, but always at last, his first
rays gleam on a new jewel, exactly like the others, sparkling among the
shells and pebbles. The young soldier takes it up, presses it to his
lips, murmurs the name written on it, binds it on his heart, and it is
his own, and he is the King's for ever. None ever saw it come, though
some fancy they have seen a streak of light on the sea when it first
appears, as of the track of an illumination out on the waters."
"'What name is engraved on it?" I asked.
"The King's name," he replied, bowing his head reverently.
"May I see it," I said.
"You could not," he replied, gravely. "None of us can read that name,
except on our own jewels."