sun and feed the ravens and the kites!'

"'Threatened men live long,' replied Slavata with a hollow laugh; 'thy
sister's son, the Geissenheimer, said as much before, but for all that I
passed this good sword three times through his bosom!'

"'Villain!' cried Conrad, striking at him, 'this to thy heart!'

"'And this to thine, proud boaster!' cried Slavata, parrying and
returning the blow.

"They closed. Conrad seized hold of Slavata by the sword-belt. The
other"----

"He's off to Old Mortality now," said I to Cutts. "For heaven's sake
stop him, or we shall have a second edition of the Bothwell and Burley
business."

"Come, Mandeville, clear away the battle--there's a good fellow. There
can be no doubt that you skewered that rascally duke in a very
satisfactory manner. I shall ring for the broiled bones, and I beg you
will finish your story before they make their appearance. Will you mix
another tumbler now, or wait till afterwards? Very well--please
yourself--there's the hot water for you."

"They led me into the state apartment," said Mandeville, with a kind of
sob. "Amalia stood upon the dais, surrounded by the fairest and the
noblest of the land. The amethyst light, which streamed through the
stained windows, gorgeous with armorial bearings, fell around her like a
glory. In one hand she held a ducal cap of maintenance--with the other,
she pointed to the picture of my great ancestor--the very image, as she
told me, of myself. I rushed forward with a cry of joy, and threw myself
prostrate at her feet!

"'Nay, not so, my Leopold!' she said. 'Dear one, thou art come at last!
Take the reward of all thy toils, all thy dangers, all thy love! Come,
adored Mandeville--accept the prize of silence and fidelity!' And she
added, 'and never upon brows more worthy could a wreath of chivalry be
placed.'

"She placed the coronet upon my head, and then gently raising me,
exclaimed--

"'Wallachians! behold your PRINCE!'"

Mr Mandeville did not get beyond that sentence. I could stand him no
longer, and burst into an outrageous roar of laughter, in which Cutts
most heartily joined, till the tears ran plenteously down his cheeks.
The Margrave of Wallachia looked quite bewildered. He attempted to rise
from his chair, but the effort was too much for him, and he dropped
suddenly on the floor.

"Well," said I, after we had fairly exhausted ourselves, "there's the
spoiling in that fellow of as good a novelist as ever coopered ou