the Prince sit alone, according to his custom, in an arbor behind
us at that very moment--and judge if I blushed or no. But the Princess
saw him not, being eager upon her flouting of me.

"I tell you," she cried, scornfully and disdainfully, "there is nothing
interesting about you but the blueness of your eyes, and that any monk
can make upon parchment, aye, and deeper and bluer, with his
lapis-lazuli. An experiment!--Why should I, Ysolinde of Plassenburg,
experiment with you, the son of the Red Axe of the Wolfsberg ?"

"Nay, that I know not," I answered; "but yet I am indeed no more than
your arrow-butts, your target of practice, your whipping-boy, to be slung
at and arrow-drilled and bullet-pitted at your pleasure!"

"I dare say," she said, bitterly; "and all the time you go scathless--no
more heart-stricken than if summer flies lighted on thee. Away with such
a man; he is the ghost of a man--a simulacrum--no true lover!"

"At your will, Princess. I shall indeed go away. I will to-morrow seek
the spears. But, after all, you will not send me forth in anger?" I said,
with a strong conviction that I knew the answer.

"And why not?" said she.

"Because," I replied, looking at her, "I am, after all, the one man who
believes thoroughly in your heart's deep inward goodness. I believe in
you even when you do not believe in yourself. I can affirm, for I know
better than you know yourself. You cover the beauty of your heart from
others. You flout and jeer. Above all, you experiment dangerously with
words and actions. But, after all, I am necessary to you. You will not
send me away in anger. For you need some one to believe in the soundness
of your heart. And I, Hugo Gottfried, am that man!"

"Hence, flatterer!" cried the lady, smiling, but well pleased. "It is
known to all that I am the Old Serpent--the deceiver--the ill fruit of
the Knowledge of Evil. And now you say of Good also! And what is more and
worse, you expect me to believe you. Wherein you also experiment! I pray
you, do not so. That is to you the forbidden fruit. Good-night. Go, now,
and pray for a more truthful tongue!"

And with that she went in, the copper spangles glancing at her waist red
as the light on ripe wheat, and all her tall figure lissome as the
bending corn.

CHAPTER XXX

INSULT AND CHALLENGE

Now, because there is still so much to tell, and so little time and space
to tell it in, I must go forward rapidly. In these dull times of