“Shall this outland woman,” he said, “and her sallow-cheeked gallant still ruffle it over us? Long beards, whether they be white or black, are too huge a blemish in our eye, methinks. The thing seemeth not supportable, that this precise madam with her foreign fashions—Dost fear to stand i’ the field against her?” Sriva put her forehead on his shoulder and said, scarce to be heard, “And it come to that, I’ll show thee.” “It must be now,” said Corsus. “Prezmyra, thou hast told me, seeketh audience betimes i’ the morning. Women are best at night-time, too.” “If Laxus should hear thee!” she said. He answered, “Tush, he need never blame thee, even if he knew on’t, and we can manage that. Thy silly mother prated but now of honour. ’Tis but a school-name; and if ’twere other, tell me whence springeth the fount of honour if not from the King of Kings? If he receive thee, then art thou honoured, and all they that have to do with thee. I am yet to learn dishonour lieth on that man or woman whom the King doth honour.” She laughed, turning from him toward the window, her hands still held in his. “Foh, thou hast given me a strong potion! and I think that swayeth me more than thy many arguments, O my father, which to say truth I cannot well remember because I did not much believe.” Duke Corsus took her by the shoulders. His face overlooked her by a little, for she was not tall of build. “By the Gods,” he said, “’tis a stronger sweet scent of the red rose to make a great man drunk withal than of the white, though that be a bigger flower.” And he said, “Why not, for a game, for a madcap jest? A mantle and hood, a mask if thou wilt, and my ring to prove thee mine ambassador. I’ll attend thee through the court-yard to the foot o’ the stairs.” She said nothing, smiling at him as she turned for him to put the great velvet mantle about her shoulders. “Ha,” said he, “’tis well seen a daughter is worth ten sons.” • • • • • In the meanwhile Gorice the King sate in his private chamber writing at a parchment spread before him on the table of polished marmolite. A silver lamp burned at his left elbow. The window stood open to the night. The King had laid aside his crown, that sparkled darkly in the shadow below the lamp. He put down his pen and read again what he had writ, in manner following: