THE LANTERN ABOVE Chase sat for hours on his porch that night, gazing down upon the chateau.

Lights gleamed in a hundred of its windows.

He knew that revelry held forth in what he was pleased enough to call the feudal castle, and yet his heart warmed toward the gay people who danced and sang while he thirsted at the gates.
The bitterness of his own isolation, the ostracism that circumstance had forced upon him, would have been maddening on this night had not all rancour been tempered by the glorious achievement in the market-place.
He wondered if the Princess knew what he had dared and what he had accomplished in the early hours of the night.

He wondered if they had pointed out his solitary light to her--if, now and then, she bestowed a casual glance upon that twinkling star of his.

The porch lantern hung almost directly above his head.
He was not fool enough to think that he had permanently pulled the wool over the eyes of the islanders.