like a
rogue, so he cannot live; and in the third place, you are so lovely,
sister, that he cannot live; and in the first, second, and third
places, he is a fool, so he cannot live." And the prince finished his
flagon of wine with every sign of ill-humor in his manner.

"He is well dead," she cried.

"Oh, as you please!" said he. "He is not the first brave man who has
died on your account;" and he rose and strode out of the room very
surlily, for he had a great friendship for Monsieur de Merosailles,
and had no patience with men who let love make dead bones of them.

The Princess Osra, being thus left alone, sat for a little while in
deep thought. There rose before her mind the picture of Monsieur de
Merosailles riding mournfully through the gloom of the forest to his
death; and although his conduct had been all, and more than all,
that she had called it, yet it seemed hard that he should die for
it. Moreover, if he now in truth felt what he had before feigned, the
present truth was an atonement for the past treachery; and she said
to herself that she could not sleep quietly that night if the marquis
killed himself in the forest. Presently she wandered slowly up to her
chamber, and looked in the mirror, and murmured low, "Poor fellow!"
And then with sudden speed she attired herself for riding, and
commanded her horse to be saddled, and darted down the stairs and
across the bridge, and mounted, and, forbidding any one to accompany
her, rode away into the forest, following the tracks of the hoofs of
Monsieur de Merosailles's horse. It was then late afternoon, and the
slanting rays of the sun, striking through the tree-trunks, reddened
her face as she rode along, spurring her horse and following hard on
the track of the forlorn gentleman. But what she intended to do if she
came up with him, she did not think.

When she had ridden an hour or more, she saw his horse tethered to a
trunk; and there was a ring of trees and bushes near, encircling an
open grassy spot. Herself dismounting and fastening her horse by the
marquis's horse, she stole up, and saw Monsieur de Merosailles sitting
on the ground, his drawn sword lying beside him; and his back was
towards her. She held her breath, and waited for a few moments. Then
he took up the sword, and felt the point and also the edge of it,
and sighed deeply; and the princess thought that this sorrowful mood
became him better than any she had seen him in before. Then he rose to