self. Why don't you marry her? I'll make you my prime minister,
and then we shall have the use of her wits without the trouble of her
fancies. By the twelve Gods! If you marry her and help me, I'll make you
what you like!'

Raphael rose and bowed to the earth.

'Your serene high-mightiness overwhelms me. But I assure you, that never
having as yet cared for any one's interest but my own, I could not be
expected, at my time of life, to devote myself to that of another, even
though it were to yours.'

'Candid!'

'Exactly so; and moreover, whosoever I may marry, will be practically,
as well as theoretically, my private and peculiar property.... You
comprehend.'

'Candid again.'

'Exactly so; and waiving the third argument, that she probably might not
choose to marry me, I beg to remark that it would not be proper to allow
the world to say, that I, the subject, had a wiser and fairer wife than
you, the ruler; especially a wife who bad already refused that ruler's
complimentary offer.'

'By Jove! and she has refused me in good earnest! I'll make her repent
it! I was a fool to ask her at all! What's the use of having guards, if
one can't compel what one wants? If fair means can't do it, foul shall!
I'll send for her this moment!'

'Most illustrious majesty--it will not succeed. You do not know that
woman's determination. Scourges and red-hot pincers will not shake her,
alive; and dead, she will be of no use whatsoever to you, while she will
be of great use to Cyril.'

'How?'

'He will be most happy to make the whole story a handle against you,
give out that she died a virgin-martyr, in defence of the most holy
catholic and apostolic faith, get miracles worked at her tomb, and pull
your palace about your ears on the strength thereof.'

'Cyril will hear of it anyhow: that's another dilemma into which you
have brought me, you intriguing rascal! Why, this girl will be boasting
all over Alexandria that I have offered her marriage, and that she has
done herself the honour to refuse me!'

'She will be much too wise to do anything of the kind; she has sense
enough to know that if she did so, you would inform a Christian populace
what conditions she offered you, and, with all her contempt for the
burden of the flesh, she has no mind to be lightened of that pretty load
by being torn in pieces by Christian monks; a very probable ending for
her in any case, as she herself, in her melancholy moods, confesses!'

'What will