rson, just as Merlin was, and Plato the philosopher, and puissant
Alexander. Nobody knows anything about his origin." Guido was sitting
upon the ground, his open pack between his knees. Between the thumb
and forefinger of each hand he held caressingly a string of pearls
which he inspected as he talked. "Nobody," he idly said, "nobody is
very eager to discuss Count Eglamore's origin now that Eglamore has
become indispensable to Duke Alessandro. Yes, it is thanks to Eglamore
that the Duke has ample leisure and needful privacy for the pursuit of
recreations which are reputed to be curious."

"I do not understand you, Guido." Graciosa was all wonder.

"It is perhaps as well," the merchant said, a trifle sadly. Then Guido
shrugged. "To be brief, madonna, business annoys the Duke. He finds
in this Eglamore an industrious person who affixes seals, draughts
proclamations, makes treaties, musters armies, devises pageants, and
collects revenues, upon the whole, quite as efficiently as Alessandro
would be capable of doing these things. So Alessandro makes verses and
amuses himself as his inclinations prompt, and Alessandro's people are
none the worse off on account of it."

"Heigho, I foresee that I shall never fall in love with the Duke,"
Graciosa declared. "It is unbefitting and it is a little cowardly for
a prince to shirk the duties of his station. Now, if I were Duke I
would grant my father a pension, and have Eglamore hanged, and purchase
a new gown of silvery green, in which I would be ravishingly beautiful,
and afterward-- Why, what would you do if you were Duke, Messer Guido?"

"What would I do if I were Duke?" he echoed. "What would I do if I
were a great lord instead of a tradesman? I think you know the answer,
madonna."

"Oh, you would make me your duchess, of course. That is quite
understood," said Graciosa, with the lightest of laughs. "But I was
speaking seriously, Guido."

Guido at that considered her intently for a half-minute. His
countenance was of portentous gravity, but in his eyes she seemed to
detect a lurking impishness.

"And it is not a serious matter that a peddler of crystals should have
dared to love a nobleman's daughter? You are perfectly right. That I
worship you is an affair which does not concern any person save myself
in any way whatsoever, although I think that knowledge of the fact
would put your father to the trouble of sharpening his dagger. . . .
Indeed, I am not ce