Maximilian complimented his young secretary upon the fidelity and care with which he had accomplished his errand. Praise from such a source was most gratifying to its recipient, although he felt that it was not altogether deserved. He had been careless at the outset, and in his code of honor it was almost as bad to act as to tell a lie. He had regretted the falsehoods he had been obliged to tell the Florentine soldiers, but in that case not only his own life, but a matter of vital importance to a nation was at stake. Now, however, he resolved not to accept in silence compliments that were not his due. "I was not altogether faithful, your Majesty," said he. "I was careless at first; I went away and forgot the ring and lost at least five hours' time in returning for it." "How did it happen that I knew nothing of your return?" asked the emperor, frowning. "None knew of it, your Majesty, excepting Le Glorieux, who would not betray me even to you, and one poor soldier who was not sufficiently familiar with my face to recognize me." "I seem to be blessed with capable sentinels," observed Maximilian sarcastically. "Your sentinels are not afraid of flesh and blood, your Majesty; they fear only the supernatural." Then the secretary told the whole story of his masquerade as _Il Capitano_, not without many misgivings as to the result of the revelation. The emperor scowled at first, then he began to laugh, and the more he thought about it the louder he laughed, for after all the messenger had done what he was sent to do, and that better than most could have done in his place, so why not enjoy the humorous side of it, now that it was all over and done with? And as hearty laughter and punishment never go hand in hand, Philibert felt that he was forgiven. "But I find it hard to forgive you," he afterward said to Le Glorieux, "for taking it for granted that I was a coward before giving me an opportunity to explain." "When a man who has been sent on a dangerous journey is found some time after he is supposed to have started, snugly hidden under his own bed, it looks, to say the least, somewhat suspicious," replied the fool. "How was I to know that you had dressed up and were capering about in a masquerade?" The young man smiled. "Perhaps you had reason to believe as you did, for appearances were against me," said he. Then after a thoughtful pause he said, "My good Le Glorieux, that was not the first time you had seen me masquerading. Do you remember Saint Monica and the accusation of Cimburga?" "Do I remember it? Does a man ever forget a thing like that?" asked the jester. "Le Glorieux, did it never occur to you that _I_ was Saint Monica on that occasion?" "You! Are you out of your mind, my lad?" "My friend," said Philibert, "I did not think that the saint would move, and I was anxious to have the girl's innocence proven." "Why should you have been anxious about the girl?" asked the fool.