-out hands.

"A pretty trade!" he cried, derisively. The girl answered him as calmly
and proudly as if she were the very divinity of justice rebuking some
obscene brawler.

"I have no horror of my father's trade. This sword is but the red
weapon of law, as law is the red weapon of life."

"I have heard of you," the man retorted, yelping at her serenity. "The
wild, shy country people believe the blood that sword has shed flushes
in your hair, and that the life it has taken rekindles in your eyes."

Perpetua shook her head.

"This sword has shed no blood since I was born. King Robert the Good had
no need of it."

The deformed clasped his lean fingers across his knees and rocked to and
fro in an ecstasy of pleasure.

"King Robert the Bad will have great need of it. Your father's arms
shall ache with swinging. Why, my own head would drop to-morrow like a
wind-fallen apple if I had not taken fool's leave to the heights and the
hollows."

The girl drew back a little, still clinging to the sword.

"Are you blood-guilty?" she asked, sternly.

The fool laughed shrilly to see the executioner's daughter shrink from
blood-guiltiness.

"Not I. I am but Diogenes, the Court Fool. I have been Prince Robert's
plaything over yonder in Naples since the dawn of his evil spring. When
his father's death brought him over-seas to Sicily, I must needs come
too, for my wry wit diverts him and my wry body sets off his comeliness.
I plumed myself on my favor, but I was bottle-brave last night, and I
blundered. In my cups I aped the King's airs and graces to a covey of
court strumpets till their sleek sides creaked with laughter. 'Thus does
King Robert carry himself,' jigged I, 'and thus does he kiss a lady's
hand--fa, la, la!' Oh, it was rare."

Even as he spoke Diogenes renewed his antics, skipping on the grass to
mimic how the King skipped on the palace floor, and with his lean claws
he blew kisses. Perpetua thought him more repulsive in his mirth than in
his rage. But suddenly his mirth dropped and his voice fell to a
whisper.

"And then the King caught me at my capers and his heart swelled like a
wet sponge. He swore a great oath that my fool's head should be the
first to fall under his tyranny."

The girl crossed herself in horror as she questioned.

"Surely, he would not kill a fool for his folly?"

The fool shrugged his shoulders; fear and malignity tugged at the
muscles of his cheeks and made them twitch.

"The King'