guests were not in the habit of hearing orders except
from the duke himself; but the command came again:

"Stand aside! Let me pass--me and my people!"

At that there was a rapid shifting of the crowd and a whispered cry:

"The smith! It's Gaspard the smith!"

And he attracted even more attention than the princess had done; for,
manifestly, here was not only a man who could play the game of love, but
could play the game of life and death as well--to shout out like this,
and come striding like this into the presence of his ruler.

But he looked the part.

He was all of six feet tall, blond and supple and beautifully fleshed.
He was wearing his blacksmith's outfit of doeskin and leather, but he
was scoured and shaven to the pink. His great arms were bare; and the
exquisitely sculptured muscles of these slipped and played under a skin
as white as a woman's.

He stood there with his shoulders back, his arms folded, feet apart.
But, curiously, there was no insolence in the posture. Insolence is a
quality of the little heart, the little soul, and shows itself in the
eyes. Gaspard the smith had gentle blue eyes, large, dark, fearless, and
with a certain brooding pride in them. There may have been even a hint
of virgin bashfulness in them as well, during that moment he glanced at
the Princess Gabrielle. Then he had looked at the duke, and all his
courage had come back to him, perhaps also a suggestion of challenge.

But neither had the smith come into the ducal presence alone.

There were two old people--a man and a woman, peasants, both of them
very poor, very humble, so frightened that they could breathe only with
their mouths open; and so soon as they were inside the circle of guests,
they had dropped to their knees. The other member of the smith's party
would have done the same had he permitted. This was a girl of twenty or
so, likewise a peasant, healthy, painfully abashed, but otherwise not
notable. To her the smith had given a nudge and a word of encouragement,
so that now she stood close to him and back of him.

"Our friends," said the duke, with studied nonchalance, "we are about to
present to you the initial operation of scientific experiment. Like all
scientific research, this also should be judged solely by its possible
contribution to the advancement of human happiness. Ourself, we feel
that this contribution will be great. God knows it is concerned with a
problem that is both elusive and poignant."

Al