“That will never be done!” Wolf eagerly protested, “and the mere supposition would force me to bare my sword, if it were not you——­”

“If it were not sheer madness for your thumb-long parade dagger to cross blades with my good sword,” laughed Malfalconnet.  “Ere you drew your rapier, I think your lust for murder would have fled.  So let us leave our blades in their sheaths and permit my curiosity, to ask just one more question:  What consideration induces you, Sir Knight, to constrain yourself to discreet peaceableness toward me, who, Heaven knows, excited your ire with no evil intent?”

“The same which restrains you from the duel with me,” replied Wolf quietly; and then, in a warmer tone, continued:  “You are dear to me because you have shown me kindness ever since I came to the court.  But you are the last person who would admit that gratitude should fetter the hand which desires to defend itself.  In comparison with you, Baron, I am but an insignificant man, but noble blood flows in my veins as well as in yours, and I, too, am no coward.  Perhaps you suspect it because I have accepted many things from you which I would overlook from no one else.  But I know that, however your jesting tongue sins against me, it has nothing to do with your disposition, whose kindness has ever been proved when the occasion offered.  But you are now denying respect to a lady—­”

“From that, too, my heart is as far removed as the starry sky above our heads from the wretched pavement of this square,” Malfalconnet interrupted.

“Yes, Sir Knight, you judged me aright, and God save me from thinking or speaking evil of a lady who is so dear to the heart of a friend!”

As he spoke he held out his right hand to his companion with gay yet stately cordiality.

Wolf eagerly clasped it, and directly after both swung themselves from their horses in the courtyard of the Golden Cross, Malfalconnet to inform the Emperor of the successful result of his ride, the Ratisbon knight to arrange for the proper stationing of the boy choir, and then, obedient to Barbara’s injunction, to go to the Grieb.

He knew the baron, and was aware that any one whom this chivalrous gentleman assured of his friendship might rely upon it, but that he did not spare even the most sacred things if he might hope thereby to win the approval and arouse the mirth of his imperial master.

In the glad conviction that he had done his best for the woman he loved, and yet had not forfeited the favour of the influential man to whom he owed a debt of gratitude, whose active mind he admired, and who had, moreover, won his affection, he went to the neighbouring Grieb.