"

"Nothing," answered the emperor, more gently.

"Nothing! And yet he lies there--dead!"

"He who lies before you is not the duke, but Louis of Hochfels, the
bastard of Pfalz-Urfeld."

"Ah," she cried, excitedly, "I see you have been listening to the false
fool, his murderer."

An expression of annoyance appeared on the emperor's face. He liked
not to be crossed at any time by any one.

"You have well called him the false fool, Madam," said Charles, curtly,
"for he is no true fool."

"And yet he rode with your troops!"

"To redeem his honor, Madam."

"His honor!"

With a scornful face she approached nearer to the monarch.

"His honor! In God's name, what mean you?"

"That the false fool, Madam, is himself the Duke of Friedwald!"

CHAPTER XXVII

A MAID OF FRANCE

"The Duke of Friedwald!"

It was not the princess who thus exclaimed, but Jacqueline. Charles
had spoken loudly, and, drawn irresistibly to the scene, she had caught
his significant words at the moment she recognized, in his brave
accoutrements, him whom she had known as the duke's fool.

When she had heard, above the din of the fray, the cries with which the
new-comer had been greeted, no suspicion of his identity had crossed
her mind. She had wondered, been puzzled at the unexpected appearance
of Robert, Duke of Friedwald, but that he and the ailing fool were one
and the same was wide from her field of speculation. In amazement, she
regarded the knight who had turned the tide of conflict, and then
started, noticing the colors he wore, a paltry yellow ribbon on his
arm, the badge of her office. Much she had not understood now appeared
plain. His assurance in Fools' hall; his reckless daring; his skill
with the sword. He was a soldier, not a jester; a lord, not a lord's
servant.

Lost in no less wonder, the princess gazed from the free baron to
Charles, and back again to the lifeless form. Stooping, she looked
steadfastly into the face, as though she would read its secret.
Perhaps, too, as she studied those features, piece by piece she patched
together the scenes of the past. Her own countenance began to harden,
as though some part of that mask of death had fallen upon her, and when
she glanced once more at the emperor they saw she no longer doubted.
With forced self-control, she turned to the emperor.

"Doubtless, it is some brave pastime," she said to Charles. "Will your
Majesty deign to explain?"

"Nay," answered