f the true Casimir vampire breed, horrid of tooth, nocturnal,
desirous of lusts and blood.

At sight of him I went straight at mine enemy, as if I had been
leading a charge.

"Sir," said I, "you are a base rascal. You have insulted the Lady Helene,
maid of honor to the Princess, the adopted child of my father. Her wrongs
are mine. You will do me the honor of crossing weapons with me!"

"I have not learned the art of the axe," said he, turning about,
listlessly. "You expect too much, Sir Executioner!"

I wasted no more words upon him, for I had not sought him to barter
insults, but to force him to meet me where I could have my anger out upon
him, and avenge the tears in the eyes of my Little Playmate.

Von Reuss was drawing a glove of yellow dressed kid through his hand
as he spoke. This I plucked from his fingers ere he was aware, and
struck him soundly on either cheek with it before flinging it crumpled
up in his face.

"Now will you fight, or must I strike you with my open hand?"

Then I saw the look of his uncle stand hell-clear in his eyes. But he was
not frightened, this one, only darkly and unscrupulously vengeful.

"Foul toad's spawn, now I will have your blood!" he cried, tugging at
his sword.

"We cannot fight here," said I, "within sight of the palace windows. But
to-night at sundown, or to-morrow at dawn, I am at your service."

"Let it be to-night, on the common at the back of the Hirschgasse--one
second, and the fighting only between principals."

Very readily I agreed to that, or anything, and then, with a wave of my
hat, I went off, cudgelling my brain whom I should ask to be my second.
Jorian, who was now an officer, I should have liked better than any
other. But, being of the people myself, it was necessary that I should
have some one of weight and standing to meet the nephew of the Duke of
the Wolfmark and his friend.

Moodily pacing down the glade, which led from the second terrace and the
pleasaunce, I almost overran the Prince himself. He was seated under a
tree, a parchment of troubadours' songs lay by him, illuminated (to judge
by the woeful pictures) by no decent monkish or clerkly hand. He had a
bottle of Rhenish at hand, and looked the same hearty, hard-headed,
ironic soldier he ever was, and yet, what is more strange, every inch of
him a Prince.

"Whither away, young Sir Amorous," he cried, pretending great indignation
at my absent-mindedness, "head among the clouds or intent as