"Friends all," he said, "the sun of beauty shines upon us in the pride of noontime, for her grace the Duchess of Thebes is coming on the great gallery to take the air. Let those that are her slaves attend upon her." Immediately the fixed circle of knights dissolved into its units, and the crowd around them parted to give passage as the cavaliers made eagerly for the stately stairway that led to the great gallery. Argathona caught Count Ernault by the arm as he turned away with the others. "Pray you, tell me the laws of this day's tourney?" she said. Count Ernault, looking with much approbation at the shepherd knight, answered: "To-day our lord's son, Sir Rainouart of Athens, will proclaim to all and sundry that the Lady Esclaramonde of Thebes is the fairest she in Christendom. Those that challenge him set the fame of their lovers in jeopardy, for Duke Baldwin's son is an unconquerable jouster." "What would happen," Argathona asked, "if he were to be overthrown?" Count Ernault laughed gently. "It could scarcely happen," he asserted. "But if it did happen?" the shepherd persisted. Count Ernault looked about him and saw that he and the shepherd stood alone, for the press of knights was thronging the great stairway. "I think," he said, softly, "that the lady of Thebes would never forgive him." "Is she so imperious a queen of beauty?" the shepherd questioned. Count Ernault laughed compassionately, as the well-informed laugh that instruct a stranger in a strange land. "She will suffer no man to wilt from allegiance to her will. She is the most insatiable fair, and would have all men for her lovers." The shepherd looked at the courtly marshal with a strange smile. "Would she condescend to a shepherd?" Argathona asked. Count Ernault distorted his smooth face with a grimace. "'Tis very likely," he answered, "none better being by; but when you ride radiant in coat-armor in the lists we shall see if she will pick you out. Till then, farewell, Knight of Eleusis." He turned from the shepherd and joined the mounting crowd to pay his respects to the Lady Esclaramonde where she stood patent in beauty upon the gallery. Argathona looked about her for a place where she might see unseen. In the court-yard stood an ancient image of a god, headless and armless, which had been set up there in indifference, if not in derision, by those who had dug it up when the court-yard was a-making. Behind this image Argathona stationed herself, and Simon, who had kept apart in the crowd outside the knights, now came to her side. Argathona looked up at the gallery, where, above the bowed heads of obsequious lords, she could distinguish the dark, imperious loveliness of the Duchess Esclaramonde. Simon whispered confidentially in her ear, behind his big hand: "There stands your fair foewoman." Argathona still looked at the duchess with unchanged face. "If I were a man," she said, slowly, "I would not be her lover." Simon grunted.