ss," he said, wildly, "I know what the king hath told you!
Why you wear the monarch's ring!"

"The monarch's ring!" she repeated, as recalled suddenly from wandering
thought. "Why--how know you--ah, Jacqueline--"

"And a ring signifieth consent. You will fulfill the king's desire?"

"The king's desire?" she replied, mechanically. "Is it not the will of
God?"

"But your own heart?" he cried, holding her with his eager gaze.

She laid her hand on his shoulder; her eyes answered his. Did she not
realize the tragedy the future held for him? Or did to-morrow seem far
off, and the present become her greater concern? Was hers the
philosophy of Marguerite's code which taught that the sweets of
admiration should be gathered on the moment? That a cry of pain from a
worshiping heart, however lowly, was honeyed flattery to Love's
votaries? As the jester looked at her a sudden chill seized his
breast. Jacqueline's mocking laughter rang in his ears. "Ask her the
rest yourself, most Unsophisticated Fool!"

"Then you will obey the king?" he persisted, dully.

"Why," she answered, smiling and bending nearer, "will you spoil the
day?"

"You would give yourself to a man, whether or not you loved him?"

A frown gathered on the princess' brow, but she stooped, herself picked
up the book he had dropped, brushed the earth from it and seated
herself upon the bench. Her manner was quiet, resolute; her action, a
rebuke to the forward fool.

"Will you not read?" she said, with an inscrutable look.

"True," he exclaimed, rising quickly, "I was sent to amuse--"

"And you have found me a too exacting mistress?" she asked, more
gently, checking the implied reproach.

"Exacting!" he repeated.

"What then?" she said, half sadly.

"Nothing," he answered.

But in his mind Jacqueline's scornful words reiterated themselves:
"Think you the princess will wear the willow?"

Taking the book, he opened it at random, mechanically sinking at her
feet. The quest, the idle quest! Was it but an awakening? So far lay
the branch above his reach! His voice rose and fell with the mystic
rhythm of the meter, now dwelling on death and danger, the shortness of
life, the sweetness of passion; then telling the pleasures of the dance.

[Illustration: Taking the book, he opened it at random, mechanically
sinking at her feet.]

Lower fell the princess' hand until it touched the reader's head;
touched and lingered. Before the fool's eyes t