back, before the many-hued curtain stood a man
of stately and majestic mien.

A man whose appearance caused deep-seated consternation, whose
forbidding aspect made the very silence portentous and terrifying.
With dress slashed and laced, rich in jewelry and precious stones, he
remained motionless, regarding the motley gathering, while an ominous
half-smile played about his features. He said nothing, but his reserve
was more sinister than language. Capricious, cruel was his face; in
his eyes shone covert enjoyment of the situation.

Would he never speak? With one hand he stroked his beard; with the
other he toyed with the lace on his doublet.

"You were talking, children," he said, finally, "before I came in."

"If your Majesty," ventured Triboulet, "has heard all, your Majesty
will not blame--us!" And he glanced malevolently toward the duke's
Jester, who, upon the king's abrupt entrance, had descended from the
platform.

Observing the emblazoned arms of Charles V upon the dress of the
culprit, a faint look of surprise swept Francis' face. Did it recall
that fatal day, when on the field of battle, a rival banner had waved
ever illusively; ever beyond his reach? Now it shone before him as
though mocking his friendship for his one-time powerful enemy, the only
man he feared, the emperor who had overthrown him. The sinister smile
of the king gave way to gloomy thoughtfulness.

"Who is this knave?" he asked at length, fixedly regarding the
erstwhile badge of his defeat.

"A poor fool, Sire!" replied the kneeling man.

"Those arms, embroidered on your dress--what do they mean?" said the
king shortly.

"The arms of my master's master, your Majesty!" was the over-confident
answer.

"Who is your master?"

"The Duke of Friedwald, Sire, the betrothed of the Princess Louise."

"And your purpose here?"

"My master sent me to the princess. 'I'll miss thee, rogue,' said he.
''Tis proof of love to send thee, my merry companion of the wine cup!
But go! Nature hath formed thee to conjure sadness from a lady's
face.' So I set out upon my perilous journey, and, favored by fortune,
am but safely arrived. I was e'en now about to repair to the princess,
whom I trust, in my humble way, to amuse."

"And thou shalt!" said the king, significantly.

"Oh, your Majesty!" with assumed modesty.

"That is," added Francis, "if it will amuse her to see you hanged!"

"And if it did not amuse her, Sire?" spoke up the new-co