we may do, since you are
penitent? The king may forgive; the admiral forget, but the lady--she
will neither forget nor forgive. Fortunately, I think she fears to
disoblige me, and, if I let it be known you are an indispensable part of
my household--" she paused thoughtfully--"besides, she has a little
secret she would keep from the king. Yes; the secret will save you!"
And Louise smiled knowingly, as one who, although most devout, perhaps
had missed a few paters or credos in listening to idle worldly gossip.

"Madam," he said, raising his head, "you overwhelm me with your goodness."

"Oh, I like her not; a most designing creature," returned the lady
carelessly. "But you may rise. Hand me that embroidery," she added when
he had obeyed. "How do I know the duke, my betrothed, whom I have never
seen, has not sent you to report upon my poor charms? What if you were
only his emissary?"

"Princess," he answered, "I am but a fool; no emissary. If I were--"

"Well?"

She smiled indulgently at the open admiration written so boldly upon his
face, and, encouraged by her glance, he regarded her swiftly,
comprehensively; the masses of hair the fillet ill-confined; eyes,
soft-lidded, dreamy as a summer's day; a figure, pagan in generous
proportions; a foot, however, _petite_, Parisian, peeping from beneath a
robe, heavy, voluminous, vivid!

"If you were?" she suggested, passing a golden thread through the cloth
she held.

"I would write him the miniature he has of you told but half the truth."

"So you have seen the miniature? It lies carelessly about, no doubt?"
Yet her tone was not one of displeasure.

"The duke frequently draws it from his breast to look at it."

"And so many handsome women in the kingdom, too!" laughed the princess.
"A tiny, paltry bit of vellum!"

Her lips curled indulgently, as of a person sure of herself. Did not the
fool's glance pay her that tribute to which she was not a stranger? Her
lashes, suddenly lifted, met his fully, and drove his look, grown
overbold, to cover. The princess smiled; she might well believe the
stories about him; yet was not ill-pleased. "Like master; like man!"
says the proverb. She continued to survey the graceful figure,
well-poised head and handsome features of the jester.

"Tell me, sirrah," she continued, "of the duke. Straightforwardly,
or--I'll leave thee to the mercy of madam the admiral's wife! What is he
like?"

"A fairly likely man!"

"'Tis