The morning hours flew swiftly by, and I had little time to examine all the festal preparations with which the gardens abounded,--so that I was almost as ignorant of what was in store for the amusement of my guests as the guests themselves. I had the curiosity to wait about and watch for the coming of the musicians and dancers, but I might as well have spared myself this waste of time and trouble, for I never saw them arrive at all. At one o'clock, both Lucio and I were ready to receive our company,--and at about twenty minutes past the hour, the first instalment of 'swagger society' was emptied into the grounds. Sibyl and her father were among these,--and I eagerly advanced to meet and greet my bride-elect as she alighted from the carriage that had brought her from the station. She looked supremely beautiful that day, and was, as she deserved to be, the cynosure of all eyes. I kissed her little gloved hand with a deeper reverence than I would have kissed the hand of a queen. "Welcome back to your old home, my Sibyl!" I said to her in a low voice tenderly, at which words she paused, looking up at the red gables of the house with such wistful affection as filled her eyes with something like tears. She left her hand in mine, and allowed me to lead her towards the silken-draped, flower-decked porch, where Lucio waited, smiling,--and as she advanced, two tiny pages in pure white and silver glided suddenly out of some unseen hiding-place, and emptied two baskets of pink and white rose-leaves at her feet, thus strewing a fragrant pathway for her into the house. They vanished as completely and swiftly as they had appeared,--some of the guests uttered murmurs of admiration, while Sibyl gazed about her, blushing with surprise and pleasure. "How charming of you, Geoffrey!" she said, "What a poet you are to devise so pretty a greeting!" "I wish I deserved your praise!" I answered, smiling at her--"But the poet in question is Prince Rimânez,--he is the master and ruler of to-day's revels."