ungently, detaining
her, "but I may welcome his daughter--though necessity, the ruler of
kings, made me helpless in his behalf!"

As in a flash her resentment faded. Half-paternally, half-severely, he
surveyed her.

"Sit down here," he went on, indicating a low stool. "You are weary
and need refreshment."

Silent she obeyed, and the emperor, touching a bell, gave a low command
to the servitor who appeared. In a few moments meat, fruits and wine
were set before her, and Charles, from his point of vantage--no throne
of gold, but a chair lined with Cordovan leather, watched her partake.
The pains had again left him; the monk gave way to the ruler; he
thought of no more phrases of the Credo, but with impassive face
listened to her story, or as much as she cared to relate. When she had
finished, for some time he offered no comment.

"A strange tale," he said finally. "But what will our nobles do when
ladies take mere fools for knight-errants?"

"He is no mere fool!" she spoke up, impulsively.

The emperor shot a quick look at her from beneath his lowering brows.

"I mean--he is brave--and has protected me many times," she explained
in some confusion.

"And so you, knowing what you were, remained--with a poor jester--a
clown--rather than leave him to his fate?" continued Charles,
inexorably, recalling the words of the outriders.

Her face became paler, but she held her head more proudly; the spirit
of the jestress sprang to her lips, "It is only kings, Sire, who fear
to cling to a forlorn cause!"

His eyes grew dark and gloomy; morosely he bent his gaze upon her. No
one had ever before dared to speak to him like that, for Charles had no
love for jesters, and kept none in his court. Unsparing, iron-handed,
he had gone his way. But, perhaps, in her very fearlessness he
recognized a touch of his own inflexible nature. At any rate, his
sternness soon gave way to an expression of melancholy.

"God alone knows the hearts of monarchs!" he said, somberly, and
directed his glance toward the crucifix.

Moved by his unexpected leniency and the aspect of his cheerlessness,
she immediately repented of her response. He looked so old, and
melancholy, this great monarch. When he again turned to her his face
and manner expressed no further cognizance of her reply.

"You need rest," he said, "and shall have a tent to yourself. Now go!"
he continued, placing his hand for a moment, not unkindly, on her head.
"I shall