"Your Royal Highness, have pity on me, my brain is turned. The Duke's page, an old friend of mine, has told me this very moment, that the Marshal's wife, inspired by the devil, went up to the Duke, and told him that the trick played on him at the baker's house was planned by Prince Julian, who opposed his marriage with his sister; that the spirit he saw was myself, sent by the Princess to be a witness of his superstition; that your Highness was a witness of his descent into the pit after hidden gold, and of his promise to make the baker's daughter his mistress, and also to make her one of the nobility immediately after his marriage with the Princess. 'Do not hope to gain the Princess. It is useless for you to try,' were the last words of the Marshal's wife to the Duke."
"And a pretty story it is," muttered Philip; "why, behavior like that would be a disgrace to the meanest of the people. I declare there is no end to these deviltries."
"Yes, indeed. 'T is impossible to behave more meanly than the Marshal's lady. The woman must be a fury. My gracious Lord, save me from destruction."
"Where is the Duke?" asked Philip.
"The page told me he started up on hearing the story, and said, 'I will go to the King.' And if he tells the story to the King in his own way—"
