then one day demetrios came to melicent, and he was in a surly rage.

"rogues all!" he grumbled. "oh, i am wasted in this paltry age. where are the giants and tyrants, and stalwart single-hearted champions of yesterday? why, they are dead, and have become rotten bones. i will fight no longer. i will read legends instead, for life nowadays is no longer worthy of love or hatred."

melicent questioned him, and he told how his spies reported that the cardinal de montors could now not ever head an expedition against demetrios' territories. the pope had died suddenly in the course of the preceding october, and it was necessary to name his successor. the college of cardinals had reached no decision after three days' balloting. then, as is notorious, dame mélusine, as always hand in glove with ayrart de montors, held conference with the bishop who inspected the cardinals' dinner before it was carried into the apartments where these prelates were imprisoned together until, in edifying seclusion from all worldly influences, they should have prayerfully selected the next pope.

the cardinal of genoa received on the fourth day a chicken stuffed with a deed to the palaces of monticello and soriano; the cardinal of parma a similarly dressed fowl which made him master of the bishop's residence at porto with its furniture and wine-cellar; while the cardinals orsino, savelli, st. angelo and colonna were served with food of the same ingratiating sort. such nourishment cured them of indecision, and ayrart de montors had presently ascended the papal throne under the title of adrian vii, servant to the servants of god. his days of military captaincy were over. demetrios deplored the loss of a formidable adversary, and jeered at the fact that the vicarship of heaven had been settled by six hens. but he particularly fretted over other news his spies had brought, which was the information that perion had wedded dame mélusine, and had begotten two lusty children—bertram and a daughter called blaniferte—and now enjoyed the opulence and sovereignty of brunbelois.

demetrios told this unwillingly. he turned away his eyes in speaking, and doggedly affected to rearrange a cushion, so that he might not see the face of melicent. she noted his action and was grateful.

demetrios said, bitterly, "it is an old and tawdry history. he has forgotten you, melicent, as a wise man will always put aside the dreams of his youth. to cynara the fates accord but a few years; a wanton lyce laughs, cheats her adorers, and outlives the crow. there is an unintended moral here—" demetrios said, "yet you do not forget."

"i know nothing as to this perion you tell me of. i only know the

perion i loved has not forgotten," answered melicent.

and demetrios, evincing a twinge like that of gout, demanded her reasons. it was a may morning, very hot and still, and demetrios sat with his christian wife in the court of stars.

said melicent, "it is not unlikely that the perion men know to-day has forgotten me and the service which i joyed to render perion. let him who would understand the mystery of the crucifixion first become a lover! i pray for old sake's sake that perion and his lady may taste of every prosperity. indeed, i do not envy her. rather i pity her, because last night i wandered through a certain forest hand-in-hand with a young perion, whose excellencies she will never know as i know them in our own woods."

said demetrios, "do you console yourself with dreams?" the swart man grinned.

melicent said:

"now it is always twilight in these woods, and the light there is neither green nor gold, but both colours intermingled. it is like a friendly cloak for all who have been unhappy, even very long ago. iseult is there, and thisbe, too, and many others, and they are not severed from their lovers now.. sometimes dame venus passes, riding upon a panther, and low-hanging leaves clutch at her tender flesh. then perion and i peep from a coppice, and are very glad and a little frightened in the heart of our own woods."

said demetrios, "do you console yourself with madness?" he showed no sign of mirth.

melicent said:

"ah, no, the perion whom mélusine possesses is but a man—a very happy man, i pray of god and all his saints. i am the luckier, who may not ever lose the perion that to-day is mine alone. and though i may not ever touch this younger perion's hands—and their palms were as hard as leather in that dear time now overpast—or see again his honest and courageous face, the most beautiful among all the faces of men and women i have ever seen, i do not grieve immeasurably, for nightly we walk hand-in-hand in our own woods."

demetrios said, "ay; and then night passes, and dawn comes to light my face, which is the most hideous to you among all the faces of men and women!"

but melicent said only:

"seignior, although the severing daylight endures for a long while, i must be brave and worthy of perion's love—nay, rather, of the love he gave me once. i may not grieve so long as no one else dares enter into our own woods."

"now go," cried the proconsul, when she had done, and he had noted her soft, deep, devoted gaze at one who was not there; "now go before i slay you!" and this new demetrios whom she then saw was featured like a devil in sore torment.

wonderingly melicent obeyed him.

thought melicent, who was too proud to show her anguish: "i could have borne aught else, but this i am too cowardly to bear without complaint. i am a very contemptible person. i ought to love this mélusine, who no doubt loves her husband quite as much as i love him—how could a woman do less?—and yet i cannot love her. i can only weep that i, robbed of all joy, and with no children to bewail me, must travel very tediously toward death, a friendless person cursed by fate, while this mélusine laughs with her children. she has two children, as demetrios reports. i think the boy must be the more like perion. i think she must be very happy when she lifts that boy into her lap."

thus melicent; and her full-blooded husband was not much more light-hearted. he went away from nacumera shortly, in a shaking rage which robbed him of his hands' control, intent to kill and pillage, and, in fine, to make all other persons share his misery.