charmed with her wit, she shook the little ball in her hand,
 and repeated, in a whisper,
 “Golden bullet, precious treasure,
 Save me, if it be thy pleasure.”
 
And behold! the bullet grew larger and larger, until it
 became a goblet of chased gold, the most beautiful cup that
 ever graced the table of baron or king.
 
Finette filled the cup herself with spiced wine, and,
 calling the seneschal, who was cowering behind her, she
 said, in her gentlest tones, "My good seneschal, I en¬
 treat you to offer this goblet to Lord Yvon. I wish to
 drink his health, and I am sure that he will not refuse
 me this pleasure.”
 
Yvon took the goblet, which the seneschal presented to
 him on a salver of enamel and gold, with a careless hand,
 bowed to the stranger, drank the wine, and, setting the
 cup on the table before him, turned to the fair-haired lady
 who occupied all his thoughts. The lady seemed anxious
 and vexed. He whispered a few words in her ear that
 seemed to please her, for her eyes sparkled, and she placed
 her band again in his.
 
Finette cast down her head and began to weep. Áll was
 over.
 
“Children,” cried the baron, in a voice of thunder, "fil
 
 
your glasses. Let us drink to the noble stranger who
 45