But glancing backward with the expectation of seeing the horse standing riderless, Philibert discovered that the same old _Capitano_ was still in his saddle, holding his sword stiffly before him, with his long mantle still floating over the tail of his steed, as it had done for nobody knew exactly how many centuries. Then this _Capitano_ was a fraud, a base imitation! Drawing his sword Philibert strode forward and with a quick turn confronted the bold masquerader. "Another step," said the secretary, "and I shall run you through. If you think to deceive me by this foolery, you are very much mistaken. You are one of the soldiers dressed up for the purpose of stealing from your comrades." The man sank to his knees and began to plead for mercy. "Oh, sir, please do not betray me. I never have done such a thing before, indeed." "Do not tell me that; you have been walking about in this guise night after night." "I mean, sir, that I never have done anything like this until since we have been camped in this place." "We will not discuss that matter now; I have no time to hear your excuses. I need your disguise for purposes of my own. Give those rags to me; promise to cease your evil practices and to keep my secret, and I will keep yours." The rascal made the necessary promises, very thankful to get off so easily, and to extricate himself from what at first promised to be a position of great danger. Hastily doffing the long mantle and the white linen which bound his head in imitation of marble hair, he helped to array the young secretary in the disguise; then holding his sword before him in imitation of _Il Capitano_, Philibert marched boldly toward the emperor's quarters. The sentinel at the gate made no opposition to his entrance, but remained as if frozen to the spot; another crossed himself and fled, and his way being now clear, so far as they were concerned, Philibert cautiously mounted the steps leading to the upper hall, ever in momentary fear of meeting one of the emperor's suite or perhaps even his Majesty himself, as he was obliged to pass his bedchamber in trying to reach his own. Luck favored him, however, and he reached his own room, where he proceeded to search for the object which had caused him so much anxiety. The one window of the room was so thickly shaded with vines as to exclude the moonlight, and even if there had been any artificial light available, its use would have been a risk, so Philibert began to run his hand over the couch, very slowly and carefully lest he should knock the ring to the floor, where it would be almost impossible to find it.