"I want you to let me have a man and a horse," he replied. "For what purpose?" "I wish to send a message to the young Duke of Savoy. He lost a valuable jewel when he was with us, and I want to tell him where he can find it." "Perhaps it is between the leaves of his prayer-book," said the princess, smiling. "But if you have an idea where this wonderful jewel is, why can you not find it and send it to him?" "There are certain reasons why such an act on my part would be out of the question," returned the jester. "But if you do not want to let me have the man and the horse, we will say nothing more about it." "I do not object in the least, Le Glorieux. Send as many messengers as you like to Savoy." They set out from the historic city of Aix-la-Chapelle, where the court was staying at the time, and even at the end of the first day's travel the princess expressed herself as being wonderfully benefited with the journey. [Illustration: They approached a hostelry] Late on the following afternoon as they approached a hostelry where they expected to stay the night, they noticed a queer-looking animal painted on the sign-board and before they were sufficiently near to read the name beneath it, they began to speculate as to what it could be. "I should say it was a horse," said the princess. "And I," said the jester, who rode at her side, "should call it a calf in convulsions." Coming nearer they read the sign, which was "The Flying Fawn." So many things had happened since she had heard the name that the princess had forgotten it, but as they drew up and the pretty landlady came to the door, Le Glorieux exclaimed, "Cimburga!" Yes, it was Frau Obermeister, as Cimburga was now called, and she was followed by her tall husband, both almost doubting the evidence of their senses when they beheld the princess. Even before the latter alighted from her mule Cimburga ran out and was about to press the hem of Marguerite's robe to her lips when the princess reached out her hand, which the landlady kissed, saying, "Oh, gracious lady, I never have forgotten your face, which is now more beautiful than ever. And never have I ceased to offer the prayer I told you of, and my little daughter, although she can scarcely lisp the words, offers petitions to the Blessed Virgin for your health and happiness, for she has learned that it is to your goodness that we owe all that we now have." "Happiness is a strange thing," remarked Le Glorieux afterward to Cimburga. "You and Karl living in this snug inn, with your two chubby children, have plenty of it, while the Lady Marguerite, even when she wedded the Prince of the Asturias, had not found it." "It will yet come to her; she is still very young, and my prayers will be answered," replied Cimburga simply.