The jester skipped gayly away to do her bidding and soon returned with the box clasped affectionately in his arms, and kneeling, he laid it on her lap. She took a purse from the box, and emptying the glittering coins in the chair beside her, she counted the pieces as she restored them one by one to the purse, which she handed to Cimburga, saying:

[Ill.u.s.tration: A greater dowry than the weaver's daughter's]

"Here is a greater dowry than the weaver's daughter will bring to her husband. I owe you something because one of my own suite has brought you so much trouble. I hope your marriage will be a happy one. Some day I too must marry, and a princess may not make her own choice. Say a prayer for me, Cimburga, that my betrothal may bring me the happiness that yours has brought to you. Pet.i.tion the Holy Virgin for Marguerite of Hapsburg."

"Indeed and indeed I will, your gracious Highness," sobbed Cimburga, as she pressed the hem of Marguerite's robe to her lips. "The sun shall not set on a day of my life in which a prayer has not been said for you."

Le Glorieux rubbed his sleeve across his eyes, saying, "I do not like salt water in any shape. When I sail on it it makes me uncomfortable and ill, and it is equally disagreeable when it tries to drown a man's eyes."

CHAPTER VII

A PLEASANT SURPRISE FOR THE PRINCESS

On his way to bed Le Glorieux remembered that he had not seen Philibert during the whole evening, and pa.s.sing the boy's room, he pushed open the door and looked in. The apartment was bathed in moonlight; its occupant lay on his couch wrapped in the unconsciousness of slumber. In contrast with the dark stuff of the cushion against which his cheek was pressed, his features were like those of a beautiful Greek G.o.d carved in cameo.

As his visitor bent over him the boy woke with a start, exclaiming, "Oh, you frightened me, Le Glorieux! With those long points standing out on either side of your head you make a strange figure against the light, and I thought it was the Evil One with his long horns."

"If the Evil One makes a practice of calling upon people who have the cold and unfeeling nature of a carp, you will not escape a visit from him, I can tell you, my young friend," responded Le Glorieux sourly.

"What do you mean?" asked Philibert.

"What do I mean, indeed! Has it escaped your memory that your cousin Clotilde this very morning accused a pretty maid of stealing a moonstone, a winking, blinking face, and which----"

"Of course it has not escaped my memory, and what then?"

"What then indeed! Perhaps that same fine memory of yours will recall the fact that the whole matter was left to Saint Monica to decide?"

"I also remember that fact."

"And still you were not with us when we visited the good saint. You did not take the trouble to join the spectators."

"No."

"When everybody about the place, from my own princess down to the lowest scullion, was anxious to know what the saint would decide, you went to bed and slept through it all like an old man of ninety. I should like very much to know what kind of blood fills the veins of the people of Savoy!"

"Very warm and generous blood, I can a.s.sure you, my good fool."

"Then the supply must have been running very low when you were created, my little gentleman, and it was necessary to weaken it with a good deal of water."

Philibert, who had risen to a sitting posture, laughed and once more cuddled among his cushions. "Listen," said he. "The great clock in the tower is clanging the hour of twelve. It is the time when witches come forth and play their tricks. Be careful as you pa.s.s along the corridor lest one of them should mistake you for her elder brother and s.n.a.t.c.h at your long horns."

"They will have more business with you than with me, fair youth. Has any one been to tell you what Saint Monica replied? Did you not at least arrange with one of the servants to bring you the news?"

"No."

"And you have not enough interest in the matter even to ask me what was the result!"

"What did the saint do?" asked the boy, clasping his hands under his head and regarding the indignant jester.

"I have as good a mind as I ever had to swallow a bite to eat to let you wait until morning to find out."

"Considering, as you say, that I have no curiosity about the matter, do you think that would greatly disturb me?" asked Philibert. "But come, my good fellow," he added good-naturedly, "do not be angry with me. Perhaps I am overfond of my bed, and this couch is soft with the down of many fowls. Tell me what reply was made by Saint Monica."

"She came to life!" replied Le Glorieux, in a tone of awe, as he recalled the remarkable scene he had witnessed. "It is a great pity that she stood so much in shadow that we could not see her more plainly, but from the moment I beheld her I could see a palpitation as of life beneath her raiment."

"Could you see her face distinctly?"

"No, you know it is shaded by her coif. And all say that even before they saw her move they are quite certain that her head was not in quite the same pose as usual, so she must have moved even before we saw her."

"Are you very sure that you saw her move?" asked the boy.

"Am I sure! Am I sure that I am talking to you at this moment? We all saw her move; she bowed her head and raised her hand, and the cause of the girl has been vindicated. She is going to marry the miller's son, and my little princess has just given her gold enough to make a dowry beyond her wildest dreams."

"Did the Lady Marguerite do so?" cried the boy, showing interest and enthusiasm for the first time. "It is like her! She is just and generous, she is an angel."

"No, I could not call her an angel exactly," replied the jester, "for I have seen her eyes flash with anger more than once, though always in a good cause. Our little lady is not without her bit of temper."

"Le Glorieux," asked Philibert earnestly, "have you ever seen an opal?"

"Yes, the old d.u.c.h.ess of Burgundy wore one on her thumb. It is a stone with a red light that rolls about over a green surface."

"Well, it would not be so pretty without the red flame, and the princess would not be so perfect without her temper."

"A temper," said the jester, "is a good thing when it is only allowed to come out once in a great while, and that only in a good cause, but as a rule it should be kept under lock and key lest it should work destruction. But I must say good night, else the first streaks of dawn will find me on the outside of my bed, which to a man with my talent for sleeping would be a calamity."

If any one had thought to compare the Lady Clotilde to an opal that night, he would have said that the red flame had absorbed the whole of the stone. She was in a most captious state of mind, boxing the ears of her tiring-woman and scolding everybody within reach. The maid's innocence had been proven, but what good did this do the Lady Clotilde?

The pendant was still missing. The whole household was rejoicing, just as if her jewel had been restored at the same time, when its loss was as great a mystery as ever!

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I could not sleep a wink without my devotional reading"]

"Fetch my book to me," she said when her woman had finished her other duties. "You were about to forget it when you know quite well that I could not sleep a wink without my devotional reading."

The maid placed on a little table beside her mistress a little Florentine lamp of silver that her lady always took with her when traveling. Beside it she placed a book bound in blue silk, with clasps and corners of silver. This volume was a treasure, for on the inside its letters were crimson, outlined with pure gold, and it told of the lives of the saints. But the Lady Clotilde's devotional reading was usually a pretense. It was well to make others believe that she was too pious to sleep until she had refreshed her mind with facts in the life of a saint, but as a rule she went to sleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, and though to-night she was too restless to be overcome by slumber, the handsome book remained tightly clasped, with its gorgeous lettering, done by the patient hand of a monk, still shut from view.

The next day it seemed to Le Glorieux that there was a whistling sound of whispering all over the castle; maids and pages, with their heads close together in the corridors, would fly apart at his approach and a.s.sume an air of great unconcern, while a group of ladies in the corners talking all at once, as of something of vital interest, would close their lips tightly when they saw him coming, and one of the gentlemen actually said "Hush!" to the others when Le Glorieux suddenly appeared among them.

"Do you know why everybody is whispering and making themselves look like owls, little Cousin?" he asked the princess.

"They do not whisper when I am present; I know nothing about it," she returned. "I only know that in spite of the good cheer offered by our kind host, I am praying that the time may fly on swiftest wings so that I may soon see my father."

"Well, there is either a conspiracy on foot against me or else they are planning a pleasant surprise for me."

"Your imagination is playing you a trick, my good fool. Why should they be planning anything that concerns you?"

Cunegunda entered the room and, like almost every one else Le Glorieux had noticed that day, she wore a beaming smile.