tridents into the steaming cave at random, and speared a kid, a cygnet,
and a flock of wildfowl. These presently smoked before Gerard and
company; and Peter's face, sad and slightly morose at the loss of the
savage hog, expanded and shone. After this, twenty different tarts of
fruits and herbs, and last of all, confectionery on a Titanic scale;
cathedrals of sugar, all gilt painted in the interstices of the
bas-reliefs; castles with moats, and ditches imitated to the life;
elephants, camels, toads; knights on horseback jousting; kings and
princesses looking on trumpeters blowing; and all these personages
eating, and their veins filled with sweet-scented juices: works of art
made to be destroyed. The guests breached a bastion, crunched a crusader
and his horse and lance, or cracked a bishop, cope, chasuble, crosier
and all, as remorselessly as we do a caraway comfit; sipping meanwhile
hippocras and other spiced drinks, and Greek and Corsican wines, while
every now and then little Turkish boys, turbaned, spangled, jewelled,
and gilt, came offering on bended knee golden troughs of rose-water and
orange-water to keep the guests' hands cool and perfumed.

But long before our party arrived at this final stage appetite had
succumbed, and Gerard had suddenly remembered he was the bearer of a
letter to the Princess Marie, and, in an under-tone, had asked one of
the servants if he would undertake to deliver it. The man took it with
a deep obeisance: "He could not deliver it himself, but would instantly
give it one of the Princess's suite, several of whom were about."

It may be remembered that Peter and Margaret came here not to dine, but
to find their cousin. Well, the old gentleman ate heartily, and--being
much fatigued, dropped asleep, and forgot all about his cousin. Margaret
did not remind him; we shall hear why.