The door did not open at once, and Kophetua stood with his arm about his ghostly companion listening to the muttered curses of the men without. There seemed to be something amiss with the lock. Fiercely they rattled the key, and every moment the prisoners expected to hear the bolt fly back.

"See, see," whispered Penelophon, suddenly pointing to the window, "I knew you would save me; why did you frighten me so?"

Kophetua looked up, and saw a stout pole had been thrust in between the bars of the window-grating, and that some one was using it as a lever to try and tear them out.

"Leap out both," cried a low disguised voice outside, "the moment it gives."

The pole strained again and the key grated; and now the shrill voice of the shrivelled Emperor could be heard screaming from his gilded throne and bidding his men make haste. The bars groaned and bent, but they were still tough, and would not give. The lock rattled each moment more savagely; the scream of the Emperor grew more angry; the suspense was becoming almost unendurable, when, with a sudden crash, the whole window-grating fell outwards. There was a sound of feet hurrying away, and then all was silent without.

But now a heavy hammer was clanging with deafening noise upon the broken lock, and between each stroke rose the scream of the frenzied monarch, so piercing that it seemed to Kophetua to half paralyse him, as he grasped the window-sill and strove to draw himself up. It was a desperate struggle, for he was unused to such exercise; but it was done at last, and he sat astride the stone sill, and held out his hands to Penelophon. She seemed quite calm, and looked up in his face trustfully, as he in a fever of excitement began to pull her up. Two hammers were now banging rhythmically on the door, and the din of their ponderous blows was almost incessant, and yet the awful scream of anger was not drowned. But the tough old lock still held; and it was not till Kophetua, more dead than alive, had dropped to the ground, and had caught the beggar-maid in his arms, that the clangour ceased in a deafening crash, and they knew that the door was burst.

They did not stop to hear more. As soon as the gaolers dare tell their frantic monarch of the escape the pursuit would begin. No sooner indeed did her feet touch the ground than Penelophon seized the King's hand, and began running down a labyrinth of tortuous passages as fast as the clinging grave-clothes would allow. The King was hardly less agitated than before. They could hear the shout of the beggars as the pursuit began; but in five minutes all was over, and the King and the beggar-maid ran out hand-in-hand through the great gate by which he had entered.

Still they did not stop. Kophetua could not feel sure after what he had seen of their power and numbers that the beggars would not carry the pursuit beyond the limits of the liberty. So he hurried on still without resting till he had let himself in at the private entrance to the palace gardens. Once inside he threw himself on a bench, exhausted with fatigue and excitement, and the beggar-maid sank at his feet. The adventure was over, and he would think quietly what was next to be done.

The thought seemed hardly framed when Kophetua awoke to the consciousness that he had been asleep. How long he knew not. The dawn was just beginning to glimmer as he opened his eyes, and he started up terror-stricken to see a corpse stretched at his feet. Then he remembered it all, and began to realise his position. It was certainly sufficiently embarrassing. He, the King of Oneiria, was sitting in his own garden with a beggar-maid, dressed like a corpse, in his charge. What was he to do with her? She too had fallen asleep, and was lying outstretched upon her back like an effigy on a tomb. Her arms lay listlessly, with palms upturned, just as they had dropped on either side of her. Her head was resting on the roots of a tree, and was turned gently towards him. Out of the dark masses of her hair, which lay littered over the white grave-clothes, her face glimmered wan and pale in the ashen light. So still and peaceful and deathlike was the picture that, save for the gentle breathing, it might indeed have been the sleep that knows no waking.

He sat with his chin in his hand looking at her. Yes, she was very beautiful. Those features were cast in the same exquisite mould which in the picture had seemed to him to tell of nothing but inanity, but now he saw it in the flesh it spoke of that divine purity, strength, and tenderness which the angels are given. It was a beauty of holiness that seemed to sanctify him as he gazed. He felt himself ennobled that he could distinguish it. But where could he take her? Assuredly most men would call that face from which all sensuality and the earthly parts of beauty had been refined away inane. They were too gross to see what real beauty was. General Dolabella would certainly call it inane.

General Dolabella! that was an idea. General Dolabella was certainly the only person of his acquaintance to whom he felt it was possible for him to bring a young girl dressed in grave-clothes, the first thing in the morning, and ask him to take care of her. In the reaction which his rest had brought about he began to feel ashamed of his quixotic enterprise, and to see his position in the ridiculous light. He fancied what the wits would say if they heard of it, what smart things would be current at his expense; and he laughed cynically at himself that he of all men should have been deluded into an attempt to resuscitate so dead and false a thing as chivalry. Just then Penelophon cried out in her sleep, and awoke with a restless start. Her eyes opened, she seized the shroud convulsively in her hands to look closely at it, and then, with a choking cry of horror, covered her face and fell back. Kophetua was on his knees at her side in a moment. He took her hands from her eyes, and tried to comfort her.

"Look up, Penelophon," said he, very tenderly. "It was only a dream."

"Where am I?" she cried wildly. "It was so dark and cold in the grave when they covered me up. Ah!" she went on, with the same trusting look coming back as at first, "I remember, they did not bury me. You saved me. Shall I go with you now?"

She stretched her arms to him, and he lifted her up. She was very cold, and so was he; but he took off his cloak and tried to repress a shiver as he wrapped it about her and drew the hood over her head.

"Yes, if you can," he said; "I want to put you where kind people will keep you safe."

She staggered when she tried to walk, being still weak with the shock she had had, and stiff with cold; so he put his arm about her, and supported her towards the gate which led from the opposite side of the gardens into General Dolabella's official residence. The servants were just astir, and there was little difficulty in getting in, when Kophetua explained that he must see the Minister at once on urgent business of state. It is true they hardly knew what to make of the King's sudden appearance, with his haggard face and dishevelled and unpowdered hair; but his manner was so sharp and peremptory that they were too glad to show him and his charge to the Minister's private room with all possible speed, and it was not many minutes more before the General himself hurried in in his nightcap and flowered dressing-gown.

"God preserve us, sire!" said he, starting back to see the haggard spectacle the King presented after the horrors he had gone through, "what has happened? It is most alarming. Let me send at once for the Adjutant-General or the Archbishop! Which department is it?"

"Calm yourself, my dear General," said the King a little nervously; "it is nothing of any consequence—at least, that is, not at present. Later in the day I will see you with the Adjutant-General. Now I merely wish you to take charge of a person, whom I have saved—it matters not how—from a very awkward position. I wished for secrecy and fidelity, and, above all, no idle curiosity, so I came to you."

"Your majesty does me a great honour," said the General, with a profound bow. "I presume this is the gentleman beside you. I need hardly say I shall be proud to offer him an asylum as long as it can be of any service to him or your majesty."

Penelophon was still wrapped in the burnouse, and in the dim morning light it was impossible to see her plainly. The mistake only made the King more nervous still. He had hoped the explanation was over, and now he had to begin again.

"That is like your kind heart," he answered, with some hesitation. "But it is only right to tell you, you are mistaken in thinking this is a gentleman."

"Oh!" said the General, with a very wise nodding of his head, "it is a lady we have rescued. Now I understand the case."

"Pardon me, General," said the King testily, "but you understand nothing of the kind. It is not a lady at all. It is a beggar-maid."

"Forgive me, sire," answered the General, with some dignity. "I could hardly have been expected to have grasped the situation. It is a delicate office for a married man; but your majesty knows my devotion, and of course I will conceal her, as well as I can, till you can otherwise bestow her."

"But that is not what I want," said the King, growing more and more vexed. "Don't you see? It is an unfortunate girl I have rescued from the most atrocious cruelty. She needs protection, and I desire that your wife shall take her into her service."

"Really, your majesty," cried the General, in great perturbation, "it is—well, not impossible; that is a word I will not allow myself to use in a question of serving your majesty. But consider what my wife—I mean, consider what it is to request the Director of Public Worship to introduce such a person into the bosom of his family."

"General Dolabella," replied the King coldly, "you do not believe me. You permit yourself to doubt the word of your sovereign. Very well, I will convince you that what I say is true, and that this poor girl is without reproach."

With a vague idea that he would at once make the General grasp the whole case, he stepped to Penelophon and drew off the burnouse that covered her, leaving her standing motionless and deathlike in her clinging grave-clothes and dark pall of hair, a pale and ghastly figure in the sickly morning light. The effect upon the Minister was startling. He sank back thunderstruck into the chair behind him. His jaw dropped, his eyes stared wildly, and beads of perspiration came out on his forehead.

"Excuse me, sire," he said faintly, when he was a little recovered. "You see I am a little shocked. I was not prepared to see the lady in fancy dress. It is very pretty; but I confess I was not quite prepared for it. I shall be better directly."

"I am sorry to alarm you," said the King, "but pray oblige me by not referring to this poor girl as a lady again. You see the story I have told you is obviously true. It is strange, but I cannot just now go into details of how she came to be in this costume, which I admit is unusual. At present all I ask from you is very simple. Procure her a suitable dress from one of your own women servants, introduce her to your wife as a young person who has been highly recommended to you as a desirable maid for her, of course without mentioning my name. She cannot refuse, and all I ask is done."

"But, your majesty," pleaded the poor General, "you hardly appreciate—my wife—I mean our domestic relations, particularly at this moment,—I assure your majesty it is a most delicate application you ask me to make, and one capable of painful misinterpretation."

"Very well," said the King sharply; "I understand you to refuse my request. I regret my confidence was so misplaced. Hitherto I had not doubted your devotion."

"But, your majesty——" began Dolabella.

"Silence, sir," said Kophetua sharply. "Enough has been said. With pain—with considerable pain I must put you to the trouble of receiving my orders as High Constable of the kingdom."

It was a sinecure office the General enjoyed as Commander-in-chief. He stood up at once and saluted, trying to look in his night-cap and flowered dressing-gown as constable-like as under the circumstances was attainable.

"I place this woman under arrest to you," continued the King. "You will keep her in solitary confinement, so far as is consistent with her kind treatment. Above all, you will let no one see her, and you will produce her person when called upon. Kindly draft a warrant, and I will sign it at once. I believe my orders are plain?" he added, as the High Constable hesitated.

"Perfectly," moaned Dolabella lugubriously, and sat down to write. Meanwhile Penelophon, who at last was beginning dimly to grasp that her angel was really Trecenito himself, was gazing from one to the other in hopeless wonder without speaking. The warrant was done. Kophetua signed it, drew his burnouse about him, and left the room without another word. Penelophon looked after him wistfully, and then sat down and began to cry.

"I am very sorry, sir," she said, "to be here, if you do not want me."

"There, there! my dear," said the soft-hearted General petulantly. "There is no need to cry. It is no fault of yours. Only you place me in a very painful position. You cannot understand, because you do not know Madame Dolabella. She is a most charming motherly person, but unhappily a woman to whom it will be an extremely delicate task to explain why I, a father of a family, am holding a tÊte-À-tÊte in my study the first thing in the morning with a corpse—or what is a corpse to all intents and purposes, only worse. She is not so used to that kind of thing as some people. I must get you a more decent dress at once, and some breakfast. You look very hungry." And therewith the General gathered the skirts of his flowered dressing-gown around him and shuffled off in his slippers, carefully locking the door behind him.

Kophetua reached his apartments in no enviable frame of mind. He was angry with the General and angry with himself. He felt it was a piece of cowardice to compel his Minister to undertake a duty he was afraid of himself. He was determined to provide for Penelophon elsewhere as soon as possible. But how was it to be done? If General Dolabella would not accept his assurance of the girl's innocence and danger, who would? It was impossible to explain the case to any one. To begin with, he was heartily ashamed of the whole adventure, and then such heavy considerations of state were involved in it. It must entail, in the first place, the unpleasant confession that he was not King in his own dominions. The beggars had been suffered to grow into an uncontrollable power; and, until he could concert measures with the general staff for the concentration of a considerable force in the capital, it was clear that the subject must not be mentioned, especially as there was the further complication of Turbo, and the extraordinary part he had played in the matter. It was absolutely necessary to know what position the Chancellor would take before any move could be made; and how he was to arrive at that Kophetua could not for the life of him think.

It was certainly a situation, and one which would require all his statesmanship to deal with. At last, he admitted, he was face to face with a difficulty of the kind he had longed for all his life. He was aware of a great danger, a great wrong in the state which must be remedied; yet, so he argued to himself, it was impossible to enjoy the position because it was so mixed up with ridiculous personal considerations. Had it only been a plain question of politics, he felt he would have been equal to it, and would have rejoiced in grappling with its difficulties. As it was, he would have given anything if he had only stayed at home that night; and as he cast himself exhausted on his bed for a little rest, there was no one he hated so much as beautiful Mlle de Tricotrin, who had been clever enough to wheedle him into making such a fool of himself for the mere pleasure of winning her good opinion. Whatever happened, he determined she should not know he had been weak enough to act on the advice he had allowed her to give, and so afford her a still better hold on him than she had already obtained by his stupid confidences.