About a fortnight after the publication of my book, we went to Court, my comrade and I, and were presented by a distinguished officer connected with the immediate and intimate surroundings of the Royal household. It was a brilliant scene enough,--but, without doubt, the most brilliant personage there was Rimânez. I was fairly startled at the stately and fascinating figure he made in his court suit of black velvet and steel ornaments; accustomed as I was to his good looks, I had never seen them so enhanced by dress as on this occasion. I had been tolerably well satisfied with my own appearance in the regulation costume till I saw him; then my personal vanity suffered a decided shock, and I realized that I merely served as a foil to show off and accentuate the superior attractions of my friend. But I was not envious of him in any way,--on the contrary I openly expressed the admiration I frankly felt. He seemed amused. "My dear boy, it is all flunkeydom;" he said--"All sham and humbug. Look at this--" and he drew his light court rapier from its sheath--"There is no real use in this flimsy blade,--it is merely an emblem of dead chivalry. In old times, if a man insulted you, or insulted a woman you admired, out flashed a shining point of tempered Toledo steel that could lunge--so!" and he threw himself into a fencing attitude of incomparable grace and ease--"and you pricked the blackguard neatly through the ribs or arm and gave him cause to remember you. But now--" and he thrust the rapier back in its place--"men carry toys like these as a melancholy sign to show what bold fellows they were once, and what spiritless cravens they are now,--relying no more on themselves for protection, but content to go about yelling 'Police! Police!' at the least threat of injury to their worthless persons. Come, it's time we started, Geoffrey!--let us go and bow our heads before another human unit formed precisely like ourselves, and so act in defiance of Death and the Deity, who declare all men to be equal!" We entered our carriage and were soon on our way to St James's Palace. "His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales is not exactly the Creator of the universe;"--said Lucio suddenly, looking out of the window as we approached the line of soldiery on guard outside. "Why no!" I answered laughing--"What do you say that for?" "Because there is as much fuss about him as if he were,--in fact, more. The Creator does not get half as much attention bestowed upon Him as Albert Edward. We never attire ourselves in any special way for entering the presence of God; we don't put so much as a clean mind on." "But then,"--I said indifferently--"God is _non est_,--and Albert Edward is _est_." He smiled,--and his eyes had a scornful gleam in their dark centres.