Is he some
new kind of man?"
"Sir," answered the coachman, "that is an old man. He has lived more
than eighty years. All who reach old age must lose their strength and
become like him, feeble and gray."
"Alas!" said the prince. "Is this the condition to which I must come?"
"If you live long enough," was the answer.
"What do you mean by that? Do not all persons live eighty years--yes,
many times eighty years?"
The coachman made no answer, but drove onward.
They passed out into the open country and saw the cottages of the poor
people. By the door of one of these a sick man was lying upon a couch,
helpless and pale.
"Why is that man lying there at this time of day?" asked the prince.
"His face is white, and he seems very weak. Is he also an old man?"
"Oh, no! He is sick," answered the coachman. "Poor people are often
sick." "What does that mean?" asked the prince. "Why are they sick?"
The coachman explained as well as he was able; and they rode onward.
Soon they saw a company of men toiling by the roadside. Their faces
were browned by the sun; their hands were hard and gnarly; their backs
were bent by much heavy lifting; their clothing was in tatters.
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