d upon him, and she said,--

"Now you shall teach me to play the lute. The Princess, I know, would
fain master the lute. But I must see first what sort of teacher you make
before I take you to her."

So they sat down beside a marble fountain in the fairest part of the
garden; and there Joyeuse taught her how to pluck the lute and to make
sweet music. He taught her so well, and they passed the time so
pleasantly, that they forgot how the hours were flying.

"Joyeuse, you are the very Prince of Teachers!" said Fleurette.

At that moment a shadow fell upon the grass beside them, and lo! there
stood the head Gardener, who had heard the sound of the music, and had
hurried to see who might be in the Princess's garden at this forbidden
hour. The Princess gave a little cry, and without a word slipped away
through an opening in the hedge that she knew, before the Gardener had a
chance to see her face.

"Huh!" grunted the Gardener. "She has escaped, whoever she is. But we
shall soon know her name. You shall tell us that and other things, you
minstrel fellow."

"That I will never tell you!" cried Joyeuse.

"Huh! We shall see about that, too," retorted the Gardener surlily. "You
shall not escape, Sirrah. I will take you to my lady the Princess, and
you will have a chance to explain how you came to be here playing the
lute in her garden at a forbidden hour. Come along!" And he advanced to
seize Joyeuse by the collar. He was a huge, burly fellow, almost a giant
in size.

But Joyeuse laid his hand on his sword and said: "Keep back, Gardener,
and do not attempt to lay hands on me! I promise to follow wherever you
may lead, but you shall not touch me to make me prisoner."

"Huh! A valiant minstrel!" sneered the Gardener. But he looked twice at
the Stranger's flashing eyes and at his strong right arm, and decided to
accept his promise. At once he led the way through the winding paths of
the garden until they came to the palace gate. Now Joyeuse was shut into
a dark dungeon to wait the hour when the Princess was wont to hold
council, to listen to the prayers of her suitors and the wishes of her
people.

Poor Joyeuse! "This is the end of my happy time," he said to himself.
"The Princess will now dismiss me, if she does no worse. She will have
no charity for a trespasser in her garden, of which she is so jealous. I
may not tell her how her fair maiden met me there and urged me to
remain. I cannot tell; for that might bring troub