He lowered his lids till his eyes seemed closed, and then struck lightly, and apparently at random, with his white staff among the knights nearest to him three times in succession. But it was characteristic of the courtly and politic marshal that the touch of his white wand fell on the shoulders of those whom, for one reason or another, it was expedient to please. Fernand Ximenes, maleficent captain of free companions; the vassal Prince of Epirus, always a thorn in the Baldwin flesh; and Andronicus Palæologus, eminent, pompous exile with an eye to a great succession, were the chosen three. Fernand Ximenes, on whom the first lot fell, advanced to the shepherd and tendered his steady, lean, brown hand. Argathona regarded it for a breathing space in silence, then she said: "You dream strange dreams suspected of none. It is well for you that none suspect. Your dreams will come true." No change stirred the impassive face of the Spaniard as he listened to what seemed, indeed, the speech of a seer. With untroubled voice he spoke. "I had a suit of armor wrought in Toledo, steel and gold; it were a privilege for any prince to wear it. I have it no longer; it is yours." He saluted the prophetic shepherd with the dignity inherent in his race, and rejoined the circle of knights. His place was promptly taken by Demetrius of Epirus, the prince with the furtive eyes and the fine, false voice. Argathona looked at his hand and whispered: "Faith and treason quarrel in the cup of your fingers. If faith win, faith must fall soon in honor; if treason triumph, treason will flourish long in dishonor to end on a high place." The pale lips of the Prince of Epirus twitched. "I will give you a battle-axe," he said, thickly, for he knew what path he would choose when the chance came, and he had grace enough to feel some shame at his knowledge. He turned and pushed his way through the circle of knights into the crowd beyond, as a man might who wished to hide his face from keen eyes. Andronicus Palæologus moved forward, ostentatious of port, gorgeous of apparel, and extended his beringed hand in arrogant condescension to the stranger. Argathona gave a quick glance at the plump, sensual palm. "You will wear the crown of Cæsar," she promised. Andronicus flushed the imperial red in spite of himself, then he said, urbanely, for, indeed, he was very pleased with the oracle: "I will give you a horse as white as the moon and as fleet as the wind. I will give you a spear as sharp as desire and as tough as hope," and so he turned and joined his brother knights. Even as he did so the air was stirred by the sweet sound of a silver trumpet, and there was immediately a sign of great bustle and commotion among the ladies who thronged the gallery. The lord-marshal lifted his hand.