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“Hillel would say, Do not judge your fellow until you have stood in his place.”
-Pirkei Avot 2:4
“Don’t judge a man until you have walked two moons in his moccasins.”
-Native American proverb
“Ouch! I’ll never get these on.” Prince Richard complained painfully as his father tried once again to push his right foot into the glass slipper. “Stop it, Father. The shoe is too small, and it’s made of glass. Do you want to cut me?”
“Stop complaining, my son.” King Stellen was running out of patience, which is not a good quality in a father or a King. “If you ever hope to find Ella, let alone understand her, you must step into her shoes.”
“Maybe I don’t want to understand her.” He yanked his foot back and examined the newly formed bruises. “Maybe I’d like to understand a woman with larger feet and who wears more sensible footwear. What sort of woman wears glass slippers, even to a formal event?”
“I don’t know, Richard. But if you want to find out, you’ll have to try again.”
The young Prince hesitated, and then grimaced as he again offered his foot to his father. “Be gentle, please.”
“Here, perhaps a little butter applied in the right places will help.”
King Stellen took some butter from the small dish he had earlier placed on the night stand next to him and rubbed it generously on his son’s right foot.
“That actually feels pretty good.” Richard closed his eyes and recalled the sensuous beauty Ella exuded when she first walked into the grand ballroom the night before. All eyes were on her, and every man, from the lowliest Duke, to Richard the Prince himself, desired a dance with the wondrous stranger (actually, the old King felt a similar desire…one not experienced for many years, but Queen Sophie used her ceremonial fan to smack the King a good one on the shoulder, derailing such thoughts).
It was while in this mood, this altered state of thought, that Richard felt a strange sensation at the ends of his legs, and opening his eyes, he saw something startling.
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