"He may be thirty-two," replied Andrea.
"Sire, then the crime was done by a boy, not a man, and does he not deserve some indulgence who has for sixteen years deplored his boyish crime?"
"You seem to know him? has he committed no other crime than this sin of youth?" demanded the King.
"I am less indulgent to him than others, but I can say that he reproaches himself with none other."
"Only with having dipped his pen in poison and written odious libels!"
"Sire, please ask my lady if the real cause of the arrest and committal of this Gilbert was not to enable his enemies—particularly one enemy—to get possession of a certain casket containing papers possibly compromising a great lady of the court?"
Andrea shuddered from head to foot.
"Countess, what casket is this?" inquired the King, who noticed the plain pallor and agitation of the lady.
"No more shifting and subterfuges," cried Gilbert, feeling that he was master of the situation. "Enough falsehoods on both sides. I am Gilbert of the crime, the libels, the casket, and you the real great lady of the court. I take the King as the judge. Accept him and we will tell our judge, under heaven and the King will decide."
"Tell his Majesty what you please, but I shall say nothing more—for I do not know you," responded the haughty lady.