“Madam,” said the Prince, “it will be my pleasure and duty to wait upon my mother to-morrow.  May I look forward to the happiness of presenting you to her?”

“I thank you,” said the Countess simply, with a glance of appeal at her guardian.  That good man sighed, then led the way into the house.

XX

THE MYSTERY OF THE FOREST

Roland left the palace with a sense of elation he had never before experienced, but this received a check as he saw standing in the middle of the square the Lieutenant of the night before.  His first impulse was to avoid the officer, yet almost instinctively he turned and walked directly to him, which apparently nonplussed the brave emissary of Mayence.

“Good afternoon to you, sir,” began Roland, as if overjoyed to see him.  “Will you permit me to speak to you, sir?”

“Well?” said the Lieutenant curtly.

“My forge, which has been black and cold for many a long day, will soon be alight and warm again.  What think you of this?” He handed to the Lieutenant his order for a thousand swords, and the officer made a mental note of the commission as an interesting point in armament that would be appreciated by his chief.

“You did not inform me last night who was the merchant you hoped would finance your enterprise.”

“Hoped?” echoed Roland, his eyes sparkling. “’Tis more than hope, Herr Lieutenant.  His name is Goebel, and he is one of the richest and chiefest traffickers of Frankfort.  Why, my fortune is made!  Read this, written in his own hand.  I got it from him before midday, on my mere word that I was certain of an order from his Lordship.”

“You are indeed much to be envied,” said the Lieutenant coldly, returning the two documents.

“Ah, but I am just at the beginning.  If you would favor me by smoothing the way to his Lordship, the Archbishop of Mayence, I in return—­”

“Out upon you for a base-born, profit-mongering churl!  Do you think that I, an officer, would demean myself by partnering a bagman!”

The Lieutenant turned on his heel, strode away and left him.  Roland pursued his way with bowed head, as though stricken by the rebuff.  Nearing the bridge, he saw a crowd around an empty cart, standing by which a man in rough clothing was cursing most vociferously.

At first he thought there had been an accident, but most of the people were laughing loudly; so, halting in the outskirts, he asked the cause of the commotion.

“’Tis but a fool farmer,” said a man, “who came from the country with his load of vegetables.  ’Tis safer to enter a lion’s den unarmed than to come into Frankfort with food while people are starving.  He has been plundered to the last leaf.”

Roland shouldered his way through the crowd, and touched the frantic man on the shoulder.

“What was the value of your load?” he said.