the emperor, dryly; "that thankless task I'll leave to
him who played the fool."

Uncovering, the Duke of Friedwald approached. The excitement of the
contest over, his pallid features marked the effects of his recent
injuries, the physical strain under which he had labored. Her cold
eyes swept over him haughtily, inquiringly.

"For the part I have played, Madam," he said, "I ask your forbearance.
If we both labored under a delusion, I have only regret--"

"Regret!" Was it an outburst of grief, or wounded pride? He flushed,
but continued firmly:

"Madame la Princesse, when first a marriage was proposed between us I
was younger in experience if not in years than I am now; more used to
the bivouac or hunters' camps than courts. And woman--" he
smiled--"well, she was a vague ideal. At times, she came to me when
sleeping before the huntsman's fire in the solitudes of the forest;
again, was reflected from the pages of classic lore. She seemed a part
of the woods and the streams, for by ancient art had she not been
turned into trees and running brooks? So she whispered in the boughs
and murmured among the rushes. Mere _Schwaermerei_. Do you care to
hear? 'Tis the only defense I can offer."

Her contemptuous blue eyes remained fastened on him; she disdained to
answer.

"It was a dreamer from brake and copse who went in the disguise of a
jester to be near her; to win her for himself--and then, declare his
identity. Well may you look scornful. Love!--it is not such a
romantic quality--at court. A momentary pastime, perhaps, but--a deep
passion--a passion stronger than rank, than death, than all--"

Above the face of her whom he addressed his glance rested upon
Jacqueline, and he paused. The princess could but note, and a derisive
expression crept about her mouth.

"Once I would have told you all," he resumed. "That night--when you
were Lady of the Lists. But--"

He broke off abruptly, wishing to spare her the bitter memory of her
own acts. Did she remember that day, when she had been queen of the
chaplet? When she had crowned him whom now death and dishonor had
overtaken?

"The rest, Madam, you know--save this." And stooping, he picked up the
ornament that had dropped from Louis of Hochfels' neck. "Here,
Princess, is the miniature you sent me. He, who used you so ill, stole
it from me in prison; through it, he recognized the fool for the duke;
with an assassin's blow he struck me down."

A mo