Hakeem's? Where is the glory he promised you? I challenge him to exalt himself. If he can, I will myself become a Druse.'

At this they all shout, 'Exalt thyself, O Hakeem!'

Then Djabal advances to them, saying, 'I can confess all now from first to last. For me there is no more shame. I am

Here he is interrupted by a peal of trumpets from the Venetians, who are about to enter the palace. The Druses shout; his eye catches the expression of their faces; his old dream comes back; and it is with full confidence in his inspiration, that he declares, 'Am I not Hakeem? But yesterday ye would have crawled into these foul courts, where now ye stand upright. Am I not grand enough for you? Will ye forsake me now, with Venice close at hand, the Nuncio caught thus, and, best of all, the Prefect lying yonder ?'

'No, Hakeem! We are thine for ever!'

'Druses,' says their chief, 'henceforth we shall be far away, out of mortal sight, above the cedars. But we shall see you return there. Khalil, you shall lead them. Behold, I fill you with mine own power. My hands fill thee thus. Lead my people home. And ye, my Druses, ye bow to him as before me. Ye will follow him to Lebanon.'

'We will follow him!' shout the Druses. 'Now exalt thyself.'

But Djabal raises Loys from Anael's corpse and says, 'How I have wronged you! You shall have full revenge, fit for your own princely soul. You, the first sword of Christ's sepulchre, shall guard Khalil and my Druses home. This is simple justice, God's justice, and nothing more. Give a few days of your

brilliant life thus. Then leave Lebanon with the blessings of my Druses, such blessings as shall have their way, one cedar-blossom in your Ducal cap, one thought of Anael in your heart, perhaps some thought, too, of him who speaks his last word to any of the living, as he bids you God speed. Be first among the first in Europe.'

And,

Then he bends over Anael, whispering, last to you. Did I dream I was to exalt you this day? A vain dream! You have won greater exaltation. What remains but for me to rise to you i Thus I exalt myself and set free my soul.'

?

He stabs himself, and, as he sinks into the arms of Khalil and Loys, the Venetians enter the hall, the Admiral exclaiming, 'God and St. Mark for Venice! Plant the Lion !'

At the clash of the planting of this standard the Druses shout and rush forwards; Loys draws his sword; Djabal moves a few steps between his two friends, and then dies, crying, 'On to the Mountain ! At the Mountain, Druses!'

205

COLOMBE'S BIRTHDAY.

COLOMBE was the daughter of William, Duke

COL

had

of Cleves and Juliers, which two states long formed one principality, and was kept concealed by her father, who knew that her title would be contested under the Salic law, according to which no woman could wear that crown. So she was left to reign queen over the water-buds on the Meuse until the Duke's death in 1609, when his courtiers took her from her half-ruined castle of Ravestein and brought her, after a magnificent reception, given by the manufacturers of Cleves, to the palace at Juliers, which she entered on her birthday amid crowds of worshippers.

The blue-eyed girl has reigned one year, with wreaths in her hair, songs on her lips, masquerades and other pageants going on continually, and no fear of rival claimants disturbing her gaiety; when her birthday comes once more, and finds a few courtiers waiting in the corridor before her audience-chamber, wondering whether any others will join them, and what they are to do with a summons just received

from her cousin, Prince Berthold. The young man announces, that he has been recognised as Duke by the Pope, the Emperor, the kings of France and Spain, and other potentates, and that he will arrive with a body of troops at noon that very day to claim possession of the principality. This letter he wishes to have presented to the Duchess, but Sir Guibert, whose office requires him to deliver it, flings it on the floor, and declares that he is not going to break his lady's heart, and that whoever chooses to run the risk of doing so is welcome to have his place thenceforth.

They have no idea of resisting the Prince, but they cannot make up their minds what to do with his summons, and they are idly lamenting the smallness of their own number and the emptiness of the outer porch, which the year before swarmed with suitors of low rank, when they learn that one of these latter has really come there.

A young man, with close-curled hair, high forehead, and thin, sour face, has been waiting in travelstained garments since daybreak, and consoling himself with a manuscript at which he glances whenever the rude answers of the guards to his requests to see the Duchess make his cheeks flush. He has claimed that he is known to Sir Guibert, but without avail. At last he sees him, dashes aside the halberdiers, and enters with torn cloak and disordered dress, saying, 'Sir Guibert, will you help me? Your starving towns

men of Cleves have sent me here to show our depths of woe to our Duchess. Such errands barricade such doors, it seems; but no common hindrance will

drive me back on the sad faces who sent me forth. Cleves, speak for me! Speak, men and women of Cleves, who followed me, the strongest of you, many a mile, who sit, the weakest of you, by the city gates, waiting for my return. Oh, I implore you, Sir Guibert, remember Cleves! They remember you so well. And if you can forget that grand old town, whose men and women starve, then remember me. You promised once to help me. Will you keep your word?'

'And who may you be, friend?' says Guibert.
'Valence of Cleves.'

'Valence—not the Advocate, to whom I owed my whole estate three years ago, when I was so nearly ousted by some knave's pretext? I have tried before to tempt you here, and now you shall see the Duchess. But do you mean simply to make a bow to her and launch at once on all the miseries you have there, written down so closely?'

'How could they let me pause or turn aside?' replies Valence, who, when other courtiers ask him if he knows that this is the birthday of their lady, her day of pleasure, says

'That the great, I know, For pleasure born, should still be on the watch To exclude pleasure when a duty offers;