"Oh, that,-'tis the amount of my loss to your Highness last week at hazard. I had nearly forgotten it; but before my departure, I must clear my debts. I have indorsed it on the back." With these words the Marshal disappeared. V. Philip opened the paper, and read in it an order for five thousand dollars. He put it in his pocket, and thought: "Well, it's a pity that I'm not a prince." Some one whispered in his ear: "Your Royal Highness, we are both discovered; I shall blow my brains out." Philip turned round in amazement, and saw a negro at his side. "What do you want, mask?" he asked, in an unconcerned tone. "I am Colonel Kalt," whispered the negro. "The Marshal's wife has been chattering to Duke Herman, and he has been breathing fire and fury against us both." "He is quite welcome," answered Philip. "But the King will hear it all," sighed the negro. "This very night I may be arrested and carried to a dungeon; I'll sooner hang myself." "No need of that," said Philip. "What! am I to be made infamous for my whole life? I am lost, I tell you. The Duke will demand entire satisfaction. His back is black and blue yet with the marks of the cudgelling I gave him. I am lost, and the baker's daughter too! I'll jump from the bridge and drown myself at once!" "God forbid!" answered Philip; "what have you and the baker's daughter to do with it?" "Your Royal Highness banters me, and I am in despair!--I humbly beseech you to give me two minutes' private conversation." Philip followed the negro into a small boudoir dimly lighted up with a few candles. The negro threw himself on a sofa, quite overcome, and groaned aloud. Philip found some sandwiches and wine on the table, and helped himself with great relish. "I wonder your Royal Highness can be so cool on hearing this cursed story. If that rascally Salmoni was here who acted the conjurer, he might save us by some contrivance, for the fellow was a bunch of tricks. As it is, he has slipped out of the scrape." "So much the better," interrupted Philip, replenishing his glass; "since he has got out of the way, we can throw all the blame on his shoulders." "How can we do that? The Duke, I tell you, knows that you, and I, and the Marshal's wife, and the baker's daughter, were all in the plot together, to take advantage of his superstition. He knows that it was you that engaged Salmoni to play the conjurer; that it was I that instructed the baker's daughter (with whom he is in love) how to inveigle him into the snare; that it was I that enacted the ghost, that knocked him down, and cudgelled him till he roared again. If I had only not carried the joke too far, but I wished to cool his love a little for my sweetheart. 'T was a devilish business. I'll take poison."