"You, sir?" exclaimed the half incredulous reader.

"I, Celio Malespini, Secretary to his Excellency, the Grand Duke, a man
of letters who has tried his quill in sundry other fields, as well."

"Then, Signor Malespini, accept my congratulations, for this story of
the company of the Calza of Venice is one of the merriest I have ever
read, and makes me eager to see their festival. Have you written other
books as entertaining?"

"I have as yet written no others," replied Celio, flattered and wholly
won by the stranger's praise, "but since you care for my poor efforts I
can lay before your worship those of other authors more worthy of your
attention."

From inconspicuous nooks and corners he dragged them forth and piled
them before the appreciative Brandilancia, who forgot all else until a
servant announced that his hostesses would receive him in the grand
salon a half hour before the hour of dining.

Even then he would have turned again to the fascinating volumes had not
the valet's added information that the luggage of the Signor was in his
room reminded him that dinner in such a house was a function and not
simply an opportunity for absorbing the provender necessary to sustain
life.

Fortunately, Brandilancia was an accomplished actor as well as writer,
and his theatrical experience had taught him to make quick changes not
only of costume, but of mental points of view and characteristics, and
Essex's wardrobe became him no more than the grace and manner of the
gallant young nobleman which he assumed with equal ease.

The transformation effected within the next hour was even deeper than
this, for as his eyes met those of Marie de' Medici he knew that here,
either for good or evil, was a woman destined to exert a compelling
influence upon his life.

It was not love, he told himself, for he was on his guard against that
passion. She did not impress him as beautiful. Her eyes were overbold
and searching but cold; but her bearing arrogant at first, softened as
the days went by into a frank comradeship, and he discovered that she
possessed a cultured and an appreciative mind.

Hitherto Brandilancia had hidden a sensitive heart craving the sympathy
that no woman had ever given him, under a gay and sportive exterior
which made him a prince of good fellows, a man's man, and a loyal lover
of his comrades, though they were far from appreciating his genius and
his aims. But every serious conversation held with his youn