At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if
something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had
snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.
Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in
company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he
looked up at the statue: "Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince
looks!" he said.
"How shabby indeed!" cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed
with the Mayor; and they went up to look at it.
"The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is
golden no longer," said the Mayor in fact, "he is litttle beter
than a beggar!"
"Little better than a beggar," said the Town Councillors.
"And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!" continued the
Mayor. "We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to
be allowed to die here." And the Town Clerk made a note of the
suggestion.
So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. "As he is no
longer beautiful he is no longer useful," said the Art Professor at
the University.
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