Philippe, then thinking over it in his mind that which on the preceding evening he had seen with his eyes, doubted if more did not remain behind.  Then was he sad, and without taking bite or sup, strolled about the town waiting the appointed hour, although he was well-favoured and gallant enough to find others less difficult to overcome than was Madame Imperia.

The night came; the little Touranian, exalted with pride caparisoned with desire, and spurred by his “alacks” and “alases” which nearly choked him, glided like an eel into the domicile of the veritable Queen of the Council—­for before her bowed humbly all the authority, science, and wisdom of Christianity.  The major domo did not know him, and was going to bundle him out again, when one of the chamber-women called him from the top of the stairs—­“Eh, M. Imbert, it is Madame’s young fellow,” and poor Philippe, blushing like a wedding night, ran up the stairs, shaking with happiness and delight.  The servant took him by the hand and led into the chamber where sat Madame, lightly attired like a brave woman who awaits her conqueror.

The dazzling Imperia was seated near a table covered with a shaggy cloth ornamented with gold, and with all the requisites for a dainty carouse.  Flagons of wine, various drinking glasses, bottles of the hippocras, flasks full of good wine of Cyprus, pretty boxes full of spices, roast peacocks, green sauces, little salt hams—­all that would gladden the eyes of the gallant if he had not so madly loved Madame Imperia.

She saw well that the eyes of the young priest were all for her.  Although accustomed to the curl-paper devotion of the churchmen, she was well satisfied that she had made a conquest of the young priest who all day long had been in her head.

The windows had been closed; Madame was decked out in a manner fit to do honours to a prince of the Empire.  Then the rogue, beatified by the holy beauty of Imperia, knew that Emperor, burgraf, nay, even a cardinal about to be elected pope, would willingly for that night have changed places with him, a little priest who, beneath his gown, had only the devil and love.

He put on a lordly air, and saluted her with a courtesy by no means ungraceful; and then the sweet lady said to him, regaling with a piercing glance—­

“Come and sit close to me, that I may see if you have altered since yesterday.”

“Oh yes,” said he.

“And how?” said she.

“Yesterday,” replied the artful fellow, “I loved you; today, we love each other, and from a poor sinner I have become richer than a king.”

“Oh, little one, little one!” cried she, merrily; “yes, you are indeed changed, for from a young priest I see well you have turned into an old devil.”

And side by side they sat down before a large fire, which helped to spread their ecstasy around.  They remained always ready to begin eating, seeing that they only thought of gazing into each other’s eyes, and never touched a dish.  Just as they were beginning to feel comfortable and at their ease, there came a great noise at Madame’s door, as if people were beating against it, and crying out.