een listening laughed, but the fool did not
look up. A great clock began to strike with harsh clangor and
Jacqueline suddenly arose. At the same time the minstrel, stretching
his arms, strolled to the door and out into the open air.

"Good-night, mistress," said the harsh voice of the master of the boar,
as his glittering eyes dwelt upon her graceful figure.

The girl responded coldly, and, amid a hush from the company, made her
way to the stairs, which she slowly mounted, preceded by the lad who
had waited upon them, and followed by the jester.

"A craven fellow for so trim a maid," continued he of the boar, as they
disappeared. "She has eyes like friar's lanterns. What a decoy she'd
make for the lords in Paris!"

"Yes," assented the landlord, "a pitfall to pill 'em and poll 'em."

At the end of the passage the guide of jestress and fool paused before
a door. "Your room, mistress," he said. "And yonder is yours, Master
Jester." Then placing the candle on a stand and vouchsafing no further
words, he shuffled off in the darkness, leaving the two standing there.

"Lock your door this night, Jacqueline," whispered the fool.

"You submit over-easily to an affront," was her scornful retort,
turning upon the jester.

"Perhaps," he replied, phlegmatically. "Yet forget not the bolt."

"It were more protection than you are apt to prove," she answered, and,
quickly entering the room closed hard the door.

A moment he stood in indecision; then rapped lightly.

"Jacqueline," he said, in a low voice.

There was no answer.

"Jacqueline!"

The bolt shot sharply into place, fastening the door. No other
response would she make, and the jester, after waiting in vain for her
to speak, turned and made his way to his own chamber, adjoining hers.

Weary as the young girl was, she did not retire at once, but going to
the window, threw wide open the blinds. Bright shone the moon, and,
leaning forth, she gazed upon clearing and forest sleeping beneath the
soft glamour. A beautiful, yet desolate scene, with not a living
object visible--yes, one, and she suddenly drew back, for there,
motionless in the full light, and gazing steadfastly toward her room,
stood a figure in whom she recognized the Spanish troubadour.

CHAPTER XX

AN UNEQUAL CONFLICT

Surveying his room carefully in the dim light of a candle, the fool
discovered he stood in a small apartment, with a single window, whose
barren furnishings consis