"Leave off deploring thy faithless, gad-about lover," said the Lady of
Chacabacque to her daughter, the lovely Fatima, "and think how the noble
Barbazure loves thee! Of all the damsels at the ball last night, he had
eyes for thee and thy cousin only."

"I am sure my cousin hath no good looks to be proud of!" the admirable
Fatima exclaimed, bridling up. "Not that I care for my Lord of
Barbazure's looks. MY heart, dearest mother, is with him who is far
away!"

"He danced with thee four galliards, nine quadrilles, and twenty-three
corantoes, I think, child," the mother said, eluding her daughter's
remark.

"Twenty-five," said lovely Fatima, casting her beautiful eyes to the
ground. "Heigh-ho! but Romane danced them very well!"

"He had not the court air," the mother suggested.

"I don't wish to deny the beauty of the Lord of Burbazure's dancing,
mamma," Fatima replied. "For a short, lusty man, 'tis wondrous how
active he is; and in dignity the King's Grace himself could not surpass
him."

"You were the noblest couple in the room, love," the lady cried.

"That pea-green doublet, slashed with orange-tawny, those ostrich
plumes, blue, red, and yellow, those party-colored hose and pink shoon,
became the noble baron wondrous well," Fatima acknowledged. "It must be