“Since when did my Lord d’Hymbercourt turn traitor?” said he.  “His fealty has always been as loud-mouthed as the baying of a wolf.”

“I am a Burgundian, my lord,” said Hymbercourt, ignoring the Italian and addressing Charles.  “I receive no pay for my fealty.  I am not a foreign mercenary, and I need not defend my loyalty to one who knows me as he knows his own heart.”

“My Lord d’Hymbercourt’s honor needs no defence,” said Charles.  “I trust his honesty and loyalty as I trust myself.  He may be mistaken; he may be right.  Bring in these spies.”

“Surely Your Grace will not contaminate your presence with these wretches,” pleaded Campo-Basso.  “Consider the danger to yourself, my dear lord.  They are desperate men, who would gladly give their lives to take yours and save their country.  I beg you out of the love I bear Your Grace, pause before you bring these traitorous spies into your sacred presence.”

“Bring them before me!” cried the duke.  “We will determine this matter for ourselves.  We have a score of brave, well-paid Italians who may be able to protect our person from the onslaught of two manacled men.”

* * * * *

On this same morning the guard had been to my cell with bread and water, and had departed.  I did not know, of course, whether it was morning, noon, or night, but I had learned to measure with some degree of accuracy the lapse of time between the visits of the guard, and was surprised to hear the rusty lock turn long before the time for his reappearance.  When the man entered my cell, bearing his lantern, he said:—­

“Come with me.”

The words were both welcome and terrible.  I could not know their meaning—­whether it was liberty or death.  I stepped from the cell and, while I waited for the guard to relock the door, I saw the light of a lantern at the other end of a passageway.  Two men with Max between them came out of the darkness and stopped in front of me.  Our wrists were manacled behind us, and we could not touch hands.  I could have wept for joy and grief at seeing Max.

“Forgive me, Max, for bringing you to this,” I cried.

“Forgive me, Karl.  It is I who have brought you to these straits,” said Max.  “Which is it to be, think you, Karl, liberty or death?”

“God only knows,” I answered.

“For your sake, Karl, I hope He cares more than I. I would prefer death to the black cell I have just left.”

We went through many dark passageways and winding stairs to the audience hall.

When we entered the hall, the courtiers fell back, leaving an aisle from the great double doors to the ducal throne.  When we approached the duke, I bent my knee, but Max simply bowed.

“Kneel!” cried Campo-Basso, addressing Max.

“If my Lord of Burgundy demands that I kneel, I will do so, but it is more meet that he should kneel to me for the outrage that has been put upon me at his court,” said Max, gazing unfalteringly into the duke’s face.