‘To look at thee, Swami, and to hear thy speech,’ cried the Emperor excitedly, ‘one could only conclude that thou wert in love with her thyself! Her beauty of person is good enough for me: I know naught of soul-beauty! Few men do, I opine, save sorcerers; and they need no femininities to comfort them, being above such frailties, I presume. However, I am aware that Mercia is in love already. That fellow Geometrus desires her, and she loves him: at all events she told me as much. I suppose thy prophecy refers to him; for he is one also who troubles little about the affairs of women; for he slaves all day making astronomical instruments for Mercia to do her star-gazing with. He is her devoted servant, and she appreciates him accordingly,’ observed Felicitas cynically. ‘But will she _marry_ him?’ remarked Swami musingly. ‘Exercise thy soul-reading powers and discover for thyself,’ answered the Emperor lightly. ‘Turn on the next scene, if it be ready, for I would learn all with as great a speed as possible,’ he added. Upon hearing this request Swami pressed another button, and immediately the room was enveloped in darkness, and the picture vanished altogether from sight. The next picture which appeared upon the crystal plate, portrayed the court with the same visitors in similar order as before, but with this difference. The serious expression which the countenances of all present wore in the first instance was now changed to that of intense excitement in some, while the greater part of the audience seemed bursting with merriment. Sadbag, who was the centre of all eyes, was in the witness box manipulating a phonograph of the newest design, the boxed-up talk of which was being apparently reeled out for the benefit of the court; the nature of its revelations proving irresistibly comic to the assembly’s point of view, while the old man’s air of triumph most graphically seemed to say, ‘What do you think of that my friends?’ as he smirked with an ‘I-told-you-so,’ sort of expression on his face. Mercia on her part was blushing violently, Geometrus was scowling darkly, while all the barristers were endeavouring to conceal their merriment by fluttering their pocket-handkerchiefs under the pretence of blowing their noses. Prince Osbert was actually holding his sides; while his face, puckered with merriment, seemed to say—‘Now isn’t this excruciatingly funny?’ Mercia’s counsel wore an air of happy triumph, which appeared to indicate complete satisfaction with his own good management of the case. Felicitas was absent, as before, but his Empress was among the audience, looking as flushed and angered as an injured wife might well be. ‘What the deuce is everybody laughing at?’ queried the Emperor, while a deep frown crossed his face,—‘I cannot understand it!’ Swami remained silent; he knew full well what the phonograph was saying, but did not deem it wise to give the irascible monarch too much information.