had not upheld her, and her eyes closed and her lip dropped, as she swooned away. But the Princess smiled, and, drawing herself to her full height, stood watching while Ludwig bore the lady to a couch and laid her there. Then, when he came back and faced her, she asked coldly and slowly:
"Who is this woman, sir? Or is she one of those who have no names?"
The Prince sprang forward, a sudden anger in his eyes; he raised his hand as if he would have pressed it across her scornful mouth and kept back her bitter words. But she did not flinch; pointing at him with her finger, she cried to the Bishop in a ringing voice:
"Kill him, my lord, kill him."
And the sword of the Bishop of Modenstein was half way out of the scabbard.
"I would to God, my lord," said the Prince in low sad tones, "that God would suffer you to kill me and me to take death at your hands. But neither for you nor for me is the blow lawful. Let me speak to the Princess."
The Bishop still grasped his sword; for Osra's face and hand still commanded him. But at the instant of his hesitation, while
