"I wish we might see the presentation," interrupted a maid, pertly, her longing eyes straying to the bright lights afar.
"Presentation!" repeated the countryman. "Did we not witness the sport? A fig for the presentation! Give me the cask and a juicy haunch, with a lass like yourself to dance with after, and the nobles are welcome to the sight of the prize and all the ceremony that goes with it."
Within the king's pavilion, the spectacle alluded to, regretfully by the girl and indifferently by the man, was at that moment being enacted. Upon a throne of honor, the lady of the tournament, attended by two maids, looked down on a brilliant assemblage, through which now approached the king and the princess' betrothed. The latter seemed somewhat thoughtful; his eye had but encountered that of the duke's fool, whose gaze expressed a disdainful confidence the other fain would have fathomed. But for that unfortunate meeting in the lists which had sealed the lips of the only person who had divined the hidden danger, the free baron would now have been master of the plaisant's designs. Above, in the palace, the trooper with the red mustaches lay on his couch unconscious.
For how long? The court physician could not say. The soldier might remain insensible for hours. Thus had the jester served himself with that stroke better than he knew, and he of Hochfels bit his lip and fumed inwardly, but to no purpose. Not that he believed the peril to be great, but the fact he could not grasp it goaded him, and he cursed the trooper for a dolt and a poltroon that a mere fool should have vanquished him. And so he had left him, with a last look of disgust at the silent lips that could not do his bidding, and had proceeded to the royal pavilion, where the final act of the day's drama—more momentous than the king or other spectators realized—was to be performed; an act in which he would have appeared with much complacency, but that his chagrin preyed somewhat on his vanity.
But his splendid self-control and audacity revealed to the courtly assemblage no trace of what was passing in his mind. He walked by the king's side as one not unaccustomed to such exalted company, nor overwhelmed by sudden honors. His courage was superb; his demeanor that of one born to command; in him seemed exemplified a type of brute strength and force denoting a leader—whether of an army or a band of swashbucklers. As the monarch and the free baron drew near, the princess slowly, gracefully arose, while now grouped around the throne stood the heralds and pursuivants of the lists. In her hand Louise held the gift, covered with a silver veil, an end of which was carried by each of the maids.
"Fair Lady of the Tournament," said the king, "this gallant knight is Bon Vouloir, whom you have even heard proclaimed the victor of the day."
"Approach, Bon Vouloir!" commanded the Queen of Love.
The maids uncovered the gift, the customary chaplet of beaten gold, and, as the free baron bowed his head, the princess with a firm hand fulfilled the functions of her office. Rising, Bon Vouloir, amid the exclamations of the court, claimed the privilege that went with the bauble. A moment he looked at the princess; she seemed to bend beneath his regard; then leaning forward, deliberately rather than ardently, he touched her cheek with his lips. Those who watched the Queen of Love closely observed her face become paler and her form tremble; but in a moment she was again mistress of herself, her features prouder and colder than before.
"Did you notice how he melted the ice of her nature?" whispered Diane, with a malicious little laugh, to the countess.
"And yet 'twas not his—warmth that did it," wisely answered the favorite of the king.