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which existed, that no one was to be put to death, without first receiving the succors of religion.

      "Lead the prisoner back to his dungeon," said he, "until the fool and the priest have finished their task."

      The jester stopped before a tent whose splendid appearance denoted the princely rank of its occupant. In front of the entrance floated a banner on which were blazoned the arms and bearings of episcopal dignity. Upon the threshold stood a man, evidently of high rank, gazing idly at the busy movement of the camp. He wore a long tunic, magnificently embroidered on the cuffs and collar; his hands sparkled with rings of gold and precious stones; his expression was engaging, and he smiled cordially as the fool approached.

      "I'm in luck!" cried the jester; "I was only looking for a monk, and I've stumbled on a prelate in all his glory."

      "What do you want, rascal?"

      "To save a soul from Satan, cousin Adelbert! There is a poor fellow near here who is going to be hanged; he is still in the bonds of sin, and I want you to come out and cut them, so that he can spring from the gallows straight into Abraham's bosom!"

      "But, Lanzo," replied Adelbert, "don't you perceive that I have neither sword nor dagger in my belt."

      "Oh! cousin, your tongue is sharp enough of itself. Come with me!"

      "What! a prelate follow a fool! Rogue, you ought to be flogged."

      "Well then! let the prelate lead the way. I warrant he will not lose the trail."

      "Whom do you mean?"

      "Why, the prelate, of course."

      "And of whose trail do you speak?"

      "Zounds! Why, the fool's, to be sure! you look very much like me, cousin, although your cap has no ears, for your surcoat is nearly as motley as mine."

      "Leave me instantly!" said Adelbert.

      "You are willing, then, to leave this poor wretch to Satan."

      "Yes, beyond doubt; and you with him! Find a monk, if you can."

      "Hey? – Well, I am learning something new every day," said Lanzo, ironically. "I never thought before, that a monk was worth more than a prelate; but I'll remember in future. – Ah, I am in luck, here comes a monk! – two of them. – I may say three, instead of one!" he cried, as several monks dismounted and approached the tent.

      They were dusty and travel-stained, and apparently fatigued with a long journey; the eldest addressed the prelate, while his companions stood on one side in an attitude of deep humility.

      "Deign to pardon my boldness," said he, after the usual greetings; "we have just arrived in your camp, and seek a friendly shelter. Our rules prescribe the greatest discretion; but, in these troublous times, it is no longer an easy task to hold our pastoral office. Perhaps, your Excellency will deign to offer us an humble place beneath your tent?"

      But the modest request seemed to irritate the prelate. He drew himself up, proudly, and glanced disdainfully upon the speaker, as he replied, sharply, -

      "The tent of a bishop is not an inn for mendicant friars."

      "If you want to keep company with bishops, or priors, or even canons, holy father," said Lanzo, "you must wear a pelisse of sables, and let the hair grow on your shaven poll."

      "Would you be kind enough," said the embarrassed monk, turning to the jester, "would you be kind enough to use your influence with this noble gentleman. We are messengers from the Archbishop Everard of Salzburg."

      "What!" sneered Adelbert. "Monks acting as the envoys of an archbishop? Has your master no abbot or canon at the head of his chapter? Your cowls are out of place amid the splendors of a court! I warn you that His Majesty has little love for your cloth, and he is right."

      "Ah!" exclaimed Lanzo, "if my cousin Barbarossa could only use the monks as train-bearers and courtiers for his pet Pope, we would soon have little need for bishops and canons!"

      With an angry look at the jester, Adelbert re-entered the tent. The monks seemed greatly embarrassed. Their scornful reception was the more mortifying, because it was the first visit which they had ever paid to the high dignitaries of the Church.

      "Be of good cheer, sons of Saint Benedict," said Lanzo; "on the word of a fool, I promise you comfortable lodgings and a hearty meal! But you must do me a service in return!"

      "Most gladly, my son," replied the monk.

      "Come with me then, I'll show you the way," said Lanzo, and they left the spot, followed by the others, leading their horses.

      "You merely ask me to perform a pious duty," said the priest, when Lanzo had explained the affair; "had we not better go at once to the poor wretch?"

      "There is no need of haste," replied Lanzo. "They dare not hang him, until he has confessed and received absolution. You need fear no rivalry in the matter, either; for my cousin Barbarossa hates your fraternity, and will not allow a monk within the limits of the camp. So that we have no one here, save prelates in velvet and ermine, who will have nothing to do with a confession. – Holloa, there, you idlers, make way for honest people!" cried the jester, striking with his cap a crowd of servants who were blocking up the entrance to a narrow street.

      Close at hand, in the middle of an open square, stood the tent of Henry the Lion, and behind were the lodgings of his suite and the stables for their horses.

      "Here, Balderich!" said the jester to one of the servants, "take these animals to the stables, and feed them well."

      And, as the varlet led away the horses, Lanzo conducted the monks to his own tent, where he offered them some food and wine.

      "I am aware," said he, "that you abstain from meat; but, with the best will in the world, I cannot give you any fish, although there is plenty of it in camp."

      The monks said their benedicite and ate what was set before them.

      "Will you not change your dress, Father Conrad?" asked one of them, of him who seemed the superior.

      "Not yet, my son," replied Conrad; "for the present it will suffice to shake off the dust."

      "Whilst the monks were attending to the needs of their chief, the fool examined intently the imposing figure of his guest, as though seeking to guess at his identity.

      "My son!" said he to the monk, "if those are your children, you must be their father?"

      "Certainly! friend Lanzo."

      "Then, may Heaven forgive me, for I have led a worthy abbot to the tent of a fool."

      "You see how deceitful appearances sometimes are," replied the abbot, with a smile.

      "Yes! – yes. Henceforth I'll go blindfold, and open my ears wider than ever, to see better what lies before me. But now, my lord Abbot, whenever it may please you, we can set out on our mission. As to you, my holy friends and worthy guests, during our absence comfort yourselves with what is before you; the ham comes from the Duke's own table, and the wine from his cellars."

      And Lanzo and the Abbot left the tent.

      CHAPTER VII.

      FATHER AND DAUGHTER

      On a rough stone, in the deep and gloomy dungeon of the fortress of Cinola, sat Guido de Bonello, his body bent forward until his head almost rested upon his knees, his manacled hands hanging helpless under the weight of his fetters, and his tearful gaze fixed despondingly upon the ground. He was a brave man, and had often looked death boldly in the face; and if he was now so unmanned, it was from no thought of his own sad fate; his fears were for his daughter, so soon to be left without a protector. Suddenly the sound of steps met his ear, and he raised his head quickly, in the fond hope of distinguishing the light footfall of a woman. The key grated in the lock, the door swung back upon its hinges, and the chief turnkey, followed by Lanzo and the Abbot, entered the cell.

      "Here is the priest," said the jailer, sullenly; "get through your business as soon as possible, for you must be hung at once. If I am to have as much trouble with all my other prisoners, in future, I would rather resign my office now, and have done with it."

      "I

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