thrown
open, and through this there came a surge of music--hautboys, viols, and
flutes. Two guardsmen came in, helmeted, swords drawn, and took up their
stations at either side of the door.

There entered the duke.

He looked the philosopher, perhaps, if not the student--tall, bent,
bony; a brush of white hair bristling over the top of his high and
narrow head; a fleshless face, sardonic and humorous. The guests were
pleased to see that his mood was amiable. He came forward smiling, waved
his musicians into retreat; and half a dozen valets were assisting him
into his chair as he greeted his guests. They all bent the knee to him.
Some kissed his hand--and some he kissed, especially those who were fair
and of the opposite sex.

If Princess Gabrielle had shown herself fragile in the matter of her
affections, well, she had come by her failing honestly.

Seated in his chair, the duke delivered himself of a little pun which
convulsed his audience--something about "court and courtship": "_Je
fais--la cour._"

And with no other preliminary he spoke to a page:

"Summon _mademoiselle_."

Then to another:

"Fetch in the smith."

There was a bitter smile on his face as he sank back into his chair and
studied the forge set up in the fireplace. The imp went white under his
smudge and worked the bellows until the fire on the hearth was spouting
like a miniature Vesuvius.

The wait was brief.

Once more the musicians struck into the royal march of Burgundy, and
there was the Princess Gabrielle.

Every one who looked at her must have experienced some thrill of the
heart--envy, desire, pure admiration. It was impossible to look at her
without some emotion; for she was eighteen, slender, white and
passionate; with dusky, copper-colored hair hanging in two heavy curls
forward over her brilliantly tender shoulders; and she had a broad, red
mouth, and slightly dilated nostrils; dark eyes, liquid and heavily
fringed, with disquieting shadows under them.

She came forward with a number of maidens in her train, but she so
dominated them that she appeared to be alone. She took her time. She was
a trifle rebellious, perhaps. But she was brave, not to say bold. She
tossed her head slightly. She smiled. She and her maidens, familiar with
the duke's intentions, grouped themselves at one side of the improvised
forge. Every one present was still looking at her when there came a
rough command:

"Stand aside!"

A good many of the