le monk as his representative to the Court.

"In truth!" exclaimed Frederic, "I am beginning to weary of this;--the
Archbishop appears to despise both threats and entreaties!--By Heavens!
he shall feel my anger!"

"Violence would be out of place here," remarked the Chancellor, dryly.
"Your Imperial Majesty is scarcely in a condition, at present, to break
the cross and mitre."

"Must we then sue humbly for the aid of this egotistical old priest?"
said Frederic, bitterly. "I would have you know, my lord, that we are
not yet reduced so low as that! If the Archbishop does not offer us a
valid excuse, he shall be punished by banishment."

"Banishment!" replied the minister, with a laugh. "The sentences, which
Victor fulminates, will all turn to smoke, for the world has little
scruple in ridiculing the Anti-Pope. You may use force, but it will be
at the expense of your own reputation. You know well that Eberhard is
profoundly respected by all, and his example has been the chief cause
of the non-recognition of Victor's claims. The people revere him as a
saint, and if you would ruin your own cause irretrievably in the
estimation of the world, you have only to punish the Archbishop."

"What then does your wisdom suggest?"

"As neither prayers, nor threats have availed," replied the crafty
statesman, "try diplomacy. Assume the mask of Organizer of the Church.
Receive the Abbot Conrad with cordiality, and trust to me for the
rest."

"What is your plan?"

"To persuade Eberhard to visit your court,--the game will be in your
own hands then."

"In my own hands! Bah! Eberhard will never break faith with Alexander!"

"Probably not! but if he should come here, I will spread the report
that he has acknowledged Victor. And, what is still more important, the
holy man will have paid a visit to the heretic Barbarossa,--a visit
which would never be made, were you to continue to be the avowed enemy
of the Church."

"Your reasoning is specious," said the prince; "that game may be
successful!"

"May be?--only may be!" replied Dassel, somewhat offended by Frederic's
incredulity. "My policy is not a _game_; it is no mere fancy of the
brain."

"I perceive," answered Barbarossa, "that science is irritable, and her
adepts petulant. We will therefore bow before your invention, which you
insist is not a mere game, but a deadly war-engine levelled against
Alexander III."

"Eberhard's apparent defection will be your rival's death-blow,