it even to pay homage to her? It is impossible--the
princess is pleased to be merry with her servant in sending him such
a message; and I must think so the rather that she hath chosen such a
messenger."

"Oh, keep your belief," said Nectabanus, turning round as if to leave
the platform; "it is little to me whether you be traitor or true man to
this royal lady--so fare thee well."

"Stay, stay--I entreat you stay," said Sir Kenneth. "Answer me but one
question: is the lady who sent thee near to this place?"

"What signifies it?" said the dwarf. "Ought fidelity to reckon furlongs,
or miles, or leagues--like the poor courier, who is paid for his
labour by the distance which he traverses? Nevertheless, thou soul
of suspicion, I tell thee, the fair owner of the ring now sent to so
unworthy a vassal, in whom there is neither truth nor courage, is not
more distant from this place than this arblast can send a bolt."

The knight gazed again on that ring, as if to ascertain that there was
no possible falsehood in the token. "Tell me," he said to the dwarf, "is
my presence required for any length of time?"

"Time!" answered Nectabanus, in his flighty manner; "what call you time?
I see it not--I feel it not--it is but a shadowy name--a succession of
breathings measured forth by night by the clank of a bell, by day by
a shadow crossing along a dial-stone. Knowest thou not a true knight's
time should only be reckoned by the deeds that he performs in behalf of
God and his lady?"

"The words of truth, though in the mouth of folly," said the knight.
"And doth my lady really summon me to some deed of action, in her name
and for her sake?--and may it not be postponed for even the few hours
till daybreak?"

"She requires thy presence instantly," said the dwarf, "and without the
loss of so much time as would be told by ten grains of the sandglass.
Hearken, thou cold-blooded and suspicious knight, these are her very
words--Tell him that the hand which dropped roses can bestow laurels."

This allusion to their meeting in the chapel of Engaddi sent a thousand
recollections through Sir Kenneth's brain, and convinced him that the
message delivered by the dwarf was genuine. The rosebuds, withered as
they were, were still treasured under his cuirass, and nearest to his
heart. He paused, and could not resolve to forego an opportunity, the
only one which might ever offer, to gain grace in her eyes whom he had
installed as sovereign of his a