“A second mistake, perhaps will now result, eh?” she teased, when he had downed the drink. “No, O Queen,” he replied. “Now all is clarity. My true heart I can master. Francis Morgan, the one who kissed your hand, is the man selected to be your husband.” “It is true,” she said solemnly. “His was the face I saw, and knew from the first.” Thus encouraged, Torres continued. “I am his friend, his very good best friend. You, who know all things, know the custom of the marriage dowry. He has sent me, his best friend, to inquire into and examine the dowry of his bride. You must know that he is among the richest of men in his own country, where men are very rich.” So suddenly did she arise on the divan that Torres cringed and half shrank down, in his panic expectance of a knife-blade between his shoulders. Instead, the Queen walked swiftly, or, rather, glided, to the doorway to an inner apartment. “Come!” she summoned imperiously. Once inside, at the first glance around, Torres knew the room for what it was, her sleeping chamber. But his eyes had little space for such details. Lifting the lid of a heavy chest of ironwood, brass-bound, she motioned him to look in. He obeyed, and saw the amazement of the world. The little maid had spoken true. Like so much shelled corn, the chest was filled with an incalculable treasure of gems——diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires, the most precious, the purest and largest of their kinds. “Thrust in your arms to the shoulders,” she said, “and make sure that these baubles be real and of the adamant of flint, rather than illusions and reflections of unreality dreamed real in a dream. Thus may you make certain report to your very rich friend who is to marry me.” And Torres, the madness of the ancient drink like fire in his brain, did as he was told. “These trifles of glass are such an astonishment?” she plagued. “Your eyes are as if they were witnessing great wonders.” “I never dreamed in all the world there was such a treasure,” he muttered in his drunkenness. “They are beyond price?” “They are beyond price.” “They are beyond the value of valor, and love, and honor?” “They are beyond all things. They are a madness.” “Can a woman’s or a man’s true love be purchased by them?” “They can purchase all the world.” “Come,” the Queen said. “You are a man. You have held women in your arms. Will they purchase women?” “Since the beginning of time women have been bought and sold for them, and for them women have sold themselves.” “Will they buy me the heart of your good friend Francis?” For the first time Torres looked at her, and nodded and muttered, his eyes swimming with drink and wild-eyed with sight of such array of gems. “Will good Francis so value them?” Torres nodded speechlessly. “Do all persons so value them?” Again he nodded emphatically. She began to laugh in silvery derision. Bending, at haphazard she clutched a priceless handful of the pretties.