presence, the fool condescending a wave of welcome. "Oh! abundant
Amicitia!" cried the fool to the Duke's Daughter, "thou art saved by so
doing. So get thee to thanksgiving and God's mercy."

"Wherefore am I saved by being drawn from my meals by thy music, fool?"
she asked, linking her arm in Angele's.

"Because thou art more enamoured of lampreys than of man; and it is
written that thou shalt love thy fellow man, and he that loveth not is
lost: therefore thou art lost if thou lingerest at meals."

"Is it so, then? And this lady--what thinkest thou? Must she also
abstain and seek good company?"

"No, verily, Amicitia, for she is good company itself, and so she may
sleep in the larder and have no fear."

"And what think you--shall she be happy? Shall she have gifts of fate?"

"Discriminately so, Amicitia. She shall have souvenirs and no suspicions
of Fate. But she shall not linger here, for all lingerers in Delicio's
Court are spied upon--not for their soul's good. She shall go hence,
and--"

"Ay, princely lady, she shall go hence," interposed Lempriere, who had
panted to speak, and could bear silence no longer. "Her high Majesty
will kiss her on the brow, and in Jersey Isle she shall blossom and bloom
and know bounty--or never more shall I have privilege and perquage."

He lumbered forward and kissed Angele's hand as though conferring