and raising her hand in courtly homage to his lips, seated himself
carelessly in a low chair at her feet.

"Let the music go on!" he said; "I am here to listen."

The Queen looked at him,--he met her eyes with an expression that she
had never seen on his face before.

"Suffer me to have my way!" he said to her in a low tone--"Let your
singers finish their programme; afterwards do me the favour to dismiss
your women, for I must speak with you alone."

She bent her head in acquiescence; and re-seated herself on her ivory
throne. The sign was given for the continuance of the music, and the
King, leaning back in his chair, half closed his eyes as he listened
dreamily to the harmonious throbbing of harps and violins around him,
in the stillness of the languid southern night. His hand almost brushed
against his wife's jewelled robes--the scent of the great lilies on her
breast was wafted to him with every breath of air, and he thought--"All
this would be Paradise,--with any other woman!" And while he so
thought, the clear tenor voice of one of the unseen singers rang out in
half gay, half tender tones:

If I loved you, and you loved me,
How happy this little world would be--
The light of the day, the dancing hours,
The skies, the trees, the birds and flowers,
Would all be part of our perfect gladness;--
And never a note of pain or sadness
Would jar life's beautiful melody