“Then choose thee another shape,” quoth the Queen, “for I fear lest the bees should take thee for a stinging wasp, Porro.”

“True, by my troth,” said the fool, thinking.  “Since Eve fell into sin, women’s counsel is often the best.  You, Nunkey, shall be turned into a butterfly, and not into a drone, and grace the flowers as you flutter round them.”

And he waved his arms as they were wings and rode round about us on his pony with right merry demeanor, like a moth fluttering over us.  Ann looked down, reddening for shame, and the blood rose to my cheeks likewise for maiden shyness; nevertheless I heard the King’s deep, outlandish tones, and his noble wife’s pleasant voice, and they lauded our posies and made enquiry as to our names, and straitly enjoined Ann and me not to fail of appearing at every dance and banquet; and I remember that we made answer with seemly modesty till the King’s grand-master came up and so ended our discourse.

And I fancy I can see the multitude coming on; the motley hues of velvet and silk, the housings and trappings of the horses, the bright sheen of polished metal, and the sparkle of cut gems dazzle my eyes, I ween, to this day.  But on a sudden it all fades into dimness; the cries and voices, the bells, the neighing, the crash and clatter are silent—­for he is come.  He waves his hand, more goodly, more truly mine and dearer to my heart than ever.  But not here do we truly meet again; that joy is to come later in his own garden.

That garden could already tell a tale of two happy human creatures, and of hours of the purest bliss ever vouchsafed to two young hearts; but what thereafter befell I remember as bright, hot, summer days, full of mirth and play-acting, of tourneys and courtly sports, of music and song, dancing and pleasuring.  The gracious favor of the King and Queen and the presence of many princes ceased not to grace it, and went to our brain like heady wine.  Things that had hitherto seemed impossible now came true.  Out of sheer joy in those intoxicating pleasures, and for the sake of the manifold demands that came upon us in these over-busy days, we forgot those nearest and dearest to our hearts.  Yet never was I given to self-seeking, neither before nor since that time.

Ann’s beguiling of the Junker, the homage paid to her by all, even the highest, Herdegen’s seething ire, his strivings to win back the favor of the maid he had slighted, his strange and various and high-handed demeanor, his shameless ways with Ursula, to whom he paid great court when my grand-uncle was present, albeit at other times he would cast dark glances at her as if she were a foe—­all this glides past me as in a mist, and concerning me but little.  Then, in the midst of this turmoil and magnificence, this love-making and royal grace, now and again meseemed I was suddenly alone and forlorn; even at the tourney or dance; nay, even when the King and Queen would vouchsafe to discourse with me, I would be filled with longing for peace and silent hours—­notwithstanding that the mighty Sovereign himself took pleasure in questioning me and moving me to those quick replies whereof I never found any lack.  Queen Barbara would many a time bid me to her chamber, and keep me with her for hours; sometimes would Ann also be bidden, and she bestowed on us both many costly jewels.