The Lady Marguerite, who had grown still more fair to look upon during his absence, received Philibert with a cordial greeting, and with a word of congratulation upon his new dignity, as future ruler of Savoy. He replied, "You are very kind, your Highness, but in a world full of sorrow and disappointment, rank and wealth are of little account." "You speak as mournfully as one who is about to become a monk," she returned in a tone of surprise. "Such a step on my part is not improbable, your Highness," was the reply. Some days later, the princess said to Le Glorieux, "Philibert de Bresse has not been the same since his return from Italy. What spell was cast over him in that country?" "Almost any question can be solved," said the jester, with a wise look, "if one will sit down and think it out quietly. I have wondered for a long time why the climate of Austria has agreed so well with Clotilde, and I find that it was all owing to Don Geronimo Bartolomeo Zurriago y Escafusa. Is it not wonderful how well I recollect that name? And the beauty of it is that once learned I shall never forget it." "What has all that to do with Philibert de Bresse?" asked the princess. "That has nothing to do with him, of course; I am simply leading up to him. This is what I have figured out for Philibert. Of course he knows that he must marry some time; few men can escape matrimony. When he was plain future Count de Bresse he had a wider selection of ladies with whom he might wed. Now that he is the future Duke of Savoy, there is a smaller number from whom he may choose; for, though I never could see the justice of it, there always is more milk than there is cream." "He is very young to be thinking of such things," said Marguerite coldly. "When you come to age, he is no younger than your noble brother, who is to wed the Princess Juana; or the young heir of Spain, who is to wed a certain princess of my acquaintance, a lady not quite sixteen. Let us suppose that Philibert had his mind fixed upon some maiden, who was in his own rank when he was simply to be a count, then, suddenly, he pops up into the circle of dukes, where he must look down upon her. It is enough to make any man gloomy." "Sometimes you talk in a very sensible manner, Le Glorieux," said the Lady Marguerite, frowning, "but to-day you speak nothing but nonsense." And she walked away with her head held high as was always the case when she was out of temper. Looking after her slender figure as it disappeared through an archway, the jester muttered to himself, "Not to contradict a princess of the blood royal, I want to say that I never was more sensible than I am at this very moment." * * * * *