the archbishop, "this is your princely gift to this poor
temple; this is the reliquary, fashioned by the most cunning artificers
of your realms, rich in outward seeming, richer still in holding in its
core the precious relics of a saint."

Robert looked at the reliquary with sufficient attention to assure
himself that it was as magnificent an offering as his pride could
desire.

"It is a pleasing piece of work," he said. "Look at it, ladies fair;
there be jewels here as bright as your eyes, as red as your lips. Truly,
I shall be famous for my piety."

He turned with a little shrill laugh of satisfaction to the three women,
who in obedience to the invitation of his speech had come near him and
were gazing in greedy admiration at the precious vessel.

"It would have made me a rare jewel-box," Messalinda sighed.

"I would have made it a casket for love-songs," Faustina muttered.

Yolande, eager to be quickest in saying something that should please the
King, looked up reverentially at Robert.

"Some day, sire," she said, "your precious bones will be so shrined and
worshipped."

In a second the summer of the King's face lowered to storm darkness, and
he turned on Yolande with so much fury, stretching out his hands as if
he would take her by the throat, that the girl fell back in a panic
fear. For a second the King could not speak with rage; his lips mouthed
ineffective; at last words came to him.

"How dare you speak to me of death?" he screamed at her. "You she-devil,
do you wish to die of scourging?"

The fury in his eyes, the fury in his fury, the fury in his gestures,
transforming him so swiftly from his regal civility to a raging animal,
palsied the fair girl's limbs, palsied her tongue.

"Sire," she stammered, piteously, "forgive--"

She could say no more, for her fear choked her, and tears raced from her
eyes. Her companions shrank from her as from an unclean thing, one
blighted by this fierce show of the King's disfavor. Robert, by a
violent effort, controlled himself to composure. His arms dropped by his
side, his face smoothed again.

"You shall weep red tears for this, minion!" he said to the unhappy
girl, and turned from her again to regard the reliquary. Yolande slunk
back to hide herself in the courtly company, and Faustina and Messalinda
regained their places.

"The fool!" whispered Faustina to Messalinda, with a glance in the
direction where Yolande sought to efface herself--"to hint at deat