ase himself
from his tamer's iron hand, and when he again failed, began to tremble
and meekly stood still with his fore legs stretched far apart.

"Bravo! Bravamente!" cried the duchess, and praise from such lips
intoxicated Ulrich. The impulse to make a display, inherited from his
mother, urged him to take still greater risks. Carefully winding his left
hand in the stallion's mane, he released his nostrils and swung himself
on his back. Taken by surprise Satan tried to rid himself of his burden,
but the rider sat firm, leaned far over the steed's neck, stroked--his
head again, pressed his flanks and, after the lapse of a few minutes,
guided him merely by the pressure of his thighs first at a walk, then at
a trot over the track. At last springing off, he patted Satan, who
pranced peacefully beside him, and led him by the bridle to Don Juan.

The latter measured the tall, brave fellow with a hasty glance, and
turning, half to him, half to Alexander Farnese, said:

"An enviable trick, and admirable performance, by my love!"

Then he approached the stallion, stroked and patted his shining neck, and
continued:

"I thank you, young man. You have saved my best horse. But for you I
should have stabbed him. You are an artist?"

"At your service, Your Highness."

"Your art is beautiful, and you alone know how it suits you. But much
honor, perhaps also wealth and fame, can be gained among my troopers.
Will you enlist?"

"No, Your Highness," replied Ulrich, with a low bow. "If I were not an
artist, I should like best to be a soldier; but I cannot give up my art."

"Right, right! Yet . . . do you think your cure of Satan will be lasting;
or will the dance begin again to-morrow?"

"Perhaps so; but grant me a week, Your Highness, and the swarthy fellows
can easily manage him. An hour's training like this every morning, and
the work will be accomplished. Satan will scarcely be transformed into an
angel, but probably will become a perfectly steady horse."

"If you succeed," replied Don Juan, joyously, "you will greatly oblige
me. Come to me next week. If you bring good tidings . . . consider
meantime, how I can serve you."

Ulrich did not need to consider long. A week would pass swiftly, and
then--then the king's brother should send him to Italy. Even his enemies
knew that he was liberal and magnanimous.

The week passed away, the horse was tamed and bore the saddle quietly.
Don Juan received Ulrich's petition kindly, an