Ravone, still in his ragged uniform, haggard but eager, was standing
like a gaunt spectre in the sunlight that flooded the terrace. The
vagabond, with the eyes of all upon him, raised and lowered his arms
thrice, and the face of Baldos became radiant.
"Your highness," he cried to Yetive, waving his hand toward the
stranger, "I have the honor to announce the Prince of Dawsbergen."