“Baron,” he said, “I have ever chided myself for loving you, for you were always a bad example to weak and impressionable natures. Even when your overbearing, obstinate intolerance compelled me to dismiss you from the command of my army, I could not but admire your sturdy honesty. Had I been able to graft your love of truth upon some of my councillors, what a valuable group of advisers might I have gathered round me. But we have had enough of comedy and now tragedy sets in. Those who are traitors to their ruler must not be surprised if a double traitor is one of their number. Why am I here? Why do two hundred mounted and armed men surround this doomed châlet? Miserable wretches, what have you to say that judgment be not instantly passed upon you?” “I have this to say,” roared Baron Brunfels, drawing his sword, “that whatever may befall this assemblage, you, at least, shall not live to boast of it.” The King stood unmoved as Baron Brunfels was about to rush upon him, but Count Staumn and others threw themselves between the Baron and his victim, seeing in the King’s words some intimation of mercy to be held out to them, could but actual assault upon his person be prevented. “My Lord of Brunfels,” said the King, calmly, “sheath your sword. Your ancestors have often drawn it, but always for, and never against the occupant of the Throne. Now, gentlemen, hear my decision, and abide faithfully by it. Seat yourselves at the table, ten on each side, the dice-box between you. You shall not be disappointed, but shall play out the game of life and death. Each dices with his opposite. He who throws the higher number escapes. He who throws the lower places his weapons on the empty chair, and stands against yonder wall to be executed for the traitor that he is. Thus half of your company shall live, and the other half seek death with such courage as may be granted them. Do you agree, or shall I give the signal?” With unanimous voice they agreed, all excepting Baron Brunfels, who spoke not. “Come, Baron, you and my devoted ex-Chancellor were about to play when I came in. Begin the game.” “Very well,” replied the Baron nonchalantly. “Steinmetz, the dice-box is near your hand: throw.” Some one placed the cubes in the leathern cup and handed it to the ex-Chancellor, whose shivering fingers relieved him of the necessity of shaking the box. The dice rolled out on the table; a three, a four, and a one. Those nearest reported the total. “Eight!” cried the King. “Now, Baron.” Baron Brunfels carelessly threw the dice into their receptacle, and a moment after the spotted bones clattered on the table. “Three sixes!” cried the Baron. “Lord, if I only had such luck when I played for money!” The ex-Chancellor’s eyes were starting from his head, wild with fear. “We have three throws,” he screamed. “Not so,” said the King.