mer, without a
tremor in his voice.

"What then?" asked the king.

"It would be a breach of hospitality to hang me, the servant of the
duke who is servant of Charles V!" he replied boldly.

Francis started. Like a menace shone the arms of the great emperor.
Vividly he recalled his own humiliation, his long captivity, and
mistrusted the power of his subtile, amiable friend-enemy. Friendship?
Sweeter was hatred. But the promptings of wisdom had suggested the
policy of peace; the reins of expediency drove him, autocrat or slave,
to the doctrines of loving brotherhood. He turned his gloomy eyes upon
the glowing countenance of Triboulet.

"What say you, fool?"

"Your Majesty," answered the eager dwarf, "could hang him without
breach of hospitality."

"How do you make that good, Triboulet?" asked the monarch.

"The duke has given him to the princess. The princess is a subject of
your Majesty. The king of France has jurisdiction over the princess'
fool and surely can proceed in so small a matter as hanging him."

Francis bent a malignant look upon the young man. Behind the dwarf
stood the jestress, now an earnest spectator of the scene.

"This new-comer's stay with us promises to be brief, Caillette," she
whispered.

"Hark, you witch! He answers," returned the poet.

"What can he say?" she retorted, shrugging her shoulders. "He is
already condemned."

"Are you pleased, mistress? Just because the poor fellow stared at you
overmuch."

"Oh," she said, insensibly, "it was written he should hang himself.
Now we'll hear how ably Audacity parleys with Fate."

"It would be no breach of hospitality, Sire, to hang the princess'
fool," spoke the condemned man with no sign of waning confidence, "yet
it would seem to depreciate the duke's gift. Your Majesty should hang
the one and spare the other. 'Tis a matter of logic," he went on
quickly, "to point out where the duke's gift ends and the princess'
fool begins. A gift is a gift until it is received. The princess has
not yet received the duke's gift. Therefore, your Majesty can not hang
me, as the princess' fool; nor would your Majesty desire to hang me as
the duke's gift."

Imperceptibly the monarch's mien relaxed, for next to a contest with
blades he liked the quick play of words.

"Answer him, Triboulet," he said.

"Your Majesty--your Majesty--" stammered the dwarf, and paused in
despair, his wits failing him at the critical juncture.

"Enough!" c