e! Tell the Count that in spite of
failure and despair, nay, perchance--who knows?--because even of that
despair, He has drawn all men to Him from that cross of His as He said.
Tell the Count that He has ascended to His Father and to thy Father,
and, alone among the personalities of the world's story, sits at the
right hand of God! Tell him this, he will have nothing to reply."

And, as if to render reply impossible, the Prince rose and, calling to
his spaniel, who came at his gesture from the sunshine in the window, he
struck a small Indian gong upon the table, and the pages drawing back
the curtains of the antechamber, he left the room.

The Count looked at the boy with a smile. Mark's face was flushed, his
eyes sparkling and full of tears.

"Well, Herr Tutor," said the Count not unkindly, "dost thou say all
that?"

"Yes," said the boy, "God helping me, I say all that!"

"Thou might'st do worse, Tutor," said the Count, "than follow the
Prince."

And he too left the room.

VII.

THE arrival of the Princess very much increased the gaiety and activity
of life within the palace. Every one became impressed with the idea that
the one thing necessary was to entertain her. The actors set to work to
prepare new plays, new spectacles; the musicians to compose new
combinations of quaint notes; the poets new sonnets on strange and, if
possible, new conceits. As the Princess was very difficult to please,
and as it was almost impossible to conceive anything which appeared new
to her jaded intellect, the difficulty of the task caused any idea that
promised novelty to be seized upon with a desperate determination. The
most favourite one still continued to be the proposition that Mark
should be induced, by fair means or foul, to take a part upon the stage.
His own character--the _role_ which he instinctively played--was so
absolutely original and fresh that the universal opinion was confident
of the success of such a performance.

"By some means or other," said old Carricchio, "he must be got to act."

"You may do what you will with him," said the Signorina sadly; "he will
die. He is too good to live. Like my little brother and the poor canary,
he will die."

In pursuit, then, of this ingenious plan, the Princess was requested to
honour with her presence a performance of a hitherto unknown character,
to be given in the palace gardens. She at first declined, saying that
she had seen everything that could be perfor