“Your death may blot out the insult—­nothing less;” and with her head held high, and her whole air full of scorn, she swept out of the room, leaving the marquis on his knees.  Then he started up to follow her, but dared not; and he flung himself on the bed in a paroxysm of shame and vexation, and now of love, and he cried out loud: 

“Then my death shall blot it out, since nothing else will serve!”

For he was in a very desperate mood.  For a long while he lay there, and then, having risen, dressed himself in a sombre suit of black, and buckled his sword by his side, and put on his riding-boots, and, summoning his servant, bade him saddle his horse.  “For,” said he to himself, “I will ride into the forest, and there kill myself; and perhaps when I am dead, the princess will forgive, and will believe in my love, and grieve a little for me.”

Now, as he went from his chamber to cross the moat by the drawbridge, he encountered Prince Rudolf returning from hawking.  They met full in the centre of the bridge, and the prince, seeing Monsieur de Merosailles dressed all in black from the feather in his cap to his boots, called out mockingly, “Who is to be buried to-day, my lord, and whither do you ride to the funeral?  It cannot be yourself, for I see that you are marvellously recovered of your sickness.”

“But it is myself,” answered the marquis, coming near and speaking low that the servants and the falconers might not overhear.  “And I ride, sir, to my own funeral.”

“The jest is still afoot, then?” asked the prince.  “Yet I do not see my sister at the window to watch you go, and I warrant you have made no way with your wager yet.”

“A thousand curses on my wager!” cried the marquis.  “Yes, I have made way with the accursed thing, and that is why I now go to my death.”

“What, has she kissed you?” cried the prince, with a merry, astonished laugh.

“Yes, sir, she has kissed me once, and therefore I go to die.”

“I have heard many a better reason, then,” answered the prince.

By now the prince had dismounted, and he stood by Monsieur de Merosailles in the middle of the bridge, and heard from him how the trick had prospered.  At this he was much tickled; and, alas! he was even more diverted when the penitence of the marquis was revealed to him, and was most of all moved to merriment when it appeared that the marquis, having gone too near the candle, had been caught by its flame, and was so terribly singed and scorched that he could not bear to live.  And while they talked on the bridge, the princess looked out on them from a lofty narrow window, but neither of them saw her.  Now, when the prince had done laughing, he put his arm through his friend’s, and bade him not be a fool, but come in and toast the princess’s kiss in a draught of wine.  “For,” he said, “though you will never get the other two, yet it is a brave exploit to have got one.”