UPON the wide steps that led to the door he found Pierol, who, turning, went before him through a hall or general room to a flight of stone steps winding upward. From this he was brought into a small room where were ladies and pages. Pierol, motioning to him to wait, vanished through an opposite door, then in a moment reappeared. Garin, answering his sign, went forward and, passing beneath the lintel, found himself in the princess’s chamber. She sat beside a table placed for the better light before the southern window. She had been writing; as she looked up, the light behind her made a kind of aureole for her head and long throat and slender, energetic form. “Give you good day, Sir Garin de Castel-Noir!” She nodded to Pierol and the girl Maeut, who left the room. Near her stood a middle-aged, thin, scholarly-appearing man in a plain dress—her secretary, Master Bernard. She spoke to him, giving directions. He answered, gathered up papers from the table, and bowing low, followed Pierol and Maeut. The princess sat on for a few moments in silence, her forehead resting upon her hand. To Garin, standing between table and door, the whole fair, large room, the figured hangings, the beamed ceiling, the deep-set windows, the floor where were strewn autumn buds and shoots from the garden, seemed a rich casket filled with a playing light. The light had a source. Garin felt a madness, a desire to sink wholly into the light, a wish to unclasp once and forever the hold of the past, accompanied by a dizzying sense that in no wise might it be done. The inner man put steadying hands upon himself, forced himself to look into the eye of the day and of duty. The princess let fall her hand, turned slightly in her chair, and faced him. Her look was still and intent; behind it stood a strong will, an intelligence of wide scope. There might seem, besides, a glow, a tension, an urging as of something that would bloom but was held back, postponed, dominated. She spoke and her voice had a golden and throbbing quality. “I have sent for you, Sir Knight, because I wish to ask of some one great service, and it has seemed to me that you would answer to my asking”— Garin came nearer to her. “I answer, my lady.” “You will be, and that for long days, in great peril. Peril will begin this very eve. I do not wish now to tell you the nature of your adventure—or to tell you more than that it is honourable.” “Tell me what you will, and no more than that.” “Then listen, and keep each step in mind—and first of all, that the matter is secret.” “First, it is secret.”