"OPEN THE GATE, YE KNAVES! WAY THERE FOR GERARD ELIASSOEN AND HIS
COMPANY! (The fiends go with him!)"

The gate swung open as by magic. Eight soldiers lowered their pikes
halfway, and made an arch, under which the victorious three marched
in triumphant. The moment they had passed, the pikes clashed together
horizontally to bar the gateway, and all but pinned an abdominal citizen
that sought to wedge in along with them.

Once past the guarded portal, a few steps brought the trio upon a scene
of Oriental luxury. The courtyard was laid out in tables loaded with
rich meats and piled with gorgeous plate. Guests in rich and various
costumes sat beneath a leafy canopy of fresh-cut branches fastened
tastefully to golden, silver, and blue silken cords that traversed the
area; and fruits of many hues, including some artificial ones of gold,
silver, and wax, hung pendant, or peeped like fair eyes among the green
leaves of plane-trees and lime-trees. The Duke's minstrels swept their
lutes at intervals, and a fountain played red Burgundy in six jets that
met and battled in the air. The evening sun darted its fires through
those bright and purple wine spouts, making them jets and cascades of
molten rubies, then passing on, tinged with the blood of the grape,
shed crimson glories here and there on fair faces, snowy beards, velvet,
satin, jewelled hilts, glowing gold, gleaming silver, and sparkling
glass. Gerard and his friends stood dazzled, spell-bound. Presently
a whisper buzzed round them, "Salute the Duke! Salute the Duke!" They
looked up, and there on high, under the dais, was their sovereign,
bidding them welcome with a kindly wave of the hand. The men bowed low,
and Margaret curtsied with a deep and graceful obeisance. The Duke's
hand being up, he gave it another turn, and pointed the new-comers out
to a knot of valets. Instantly seven of his people, with an obedient