Before ever it touched them, with a motion swift as that of a panther springing on its prey, Irene had leapt from her couch and dashed the fruit from my hand.  She turned upon her son.

“What kind of a thing are you,” she asked, “who would suffer a brave man to poison himself that he may save your worthless life?  Oh!  God, what have I done that I should have given birth to such a hound?  Whoever poisoned them, these fruits are poisoned, as has been proved and can be proved again, yes, and shall be.  I tell you that if Olaf had tasted one of them by now he would have been dead or dying.”

Constantine drank another cup of wine, which, oddly enough, seemed to sober him for the moment.

“I find all this strange,” he said heavily.  “You, my mother, would have suffered me to eat the fig which you declare is poisoned; a matter whereof you may know something.  But when the General Olaf offers to eat it in my place, with your own royal hand you dash it from his lips, as he dashed it from mine.  And there is another thing which is still more strange.  This Olaf, who also says the figs are poisoned, offered to eat one of them if I promised I would not do so, which means, if he is right, that he offered to give his life for mine.  Yet I have done nothing for him except call him hard names; and as he is your servant he has nothing to look for from me if I should win the fight with you at last.  Now I have heard much talk of miracles, but this is the only one I have ever seen.  Either Olaf is a liar, or he is a great man and a saint.  He says, I am told, that the monkey which ate one of those figs died.  Well, I never thought of it before, but there are more monkeys in the palace.  Indeed, one lives on the terrace near by, for I fed it this afternoon.  We’ll put the matter to the proof and learn of what stuff this Olaf is really made.”

On the table stood a silver bell, and as he spoke he struck it.  A chamberlain entered and was ordered to bring in the monkey.  He departed, and with incredible swiftness the beast and its keeper arrived.  It was a large animal of the baboon tribe, famous throughout the palace for its tricks.  Indeed, on entering, at a word from the man who led it, it bowed to all of us.

“Give your beast these,” said the Emperor, handing the keeper several of the figs.

The baboon took the fruits and, having sniffed at them, put them aside.  Then the keeper fed it with some sweetmeats, which it caught and devoured, and presently, when its fears were allayed, threw it one of the figs, which it swallowed, doubtless thinking it a sweetmeat.  A minute or two later it began to show signs of distress and shortly afterwards died in convulsions.

“Now,” said Irene, “now do you believe, my son?”

“Yes,” he answered, “I believe that there is a saint in Constantinople.  Sir Saint, I salute you.  You have saved my life and if it should come my way, by your brother saints!  I’ll save yours, although you are my mother’s servant.”