Wendot, Griffeth, and Godfrey flung themselves upon the mad youth, and held him back by main force.  In Raoul’s eyes there was an evil light of triumph and exultation.

“Llewelyn, Llewelyn, art mad?  It is the king’s son,” cried Wendot in their native tongue; whilst Joanna sprang towards her brother and commenced binding up the gash, the lad never for a moment losing his presence of mind, or forgetting in the smart of the hurt the dignity of his position.

Llewelyn’s fierce burst of passion had spent itself, and the sense of Wendot’s words had come home to him.  He stood shamefaced and sullen, but secretly somewhat afraid; whilst Arthyn trembled in every limb, and if looks would have annihilated, Raoul would not have existed as a corporate being a moment longer.

“Gentlemen,” said Alphonso, turning to those about him, and holding up his bandaged hand, “this is the result of accident —­ pure accident.  Remember that, if it ever comes to the ears of my father.  This youth knew not what he did.  The fault was mine for exposing myself thus hastily.  As you value the goodwill in which I hold you all, keep this matter to yourselves.  We are not prince or subject today, but comrades bent on sport together.  Remember and obey my behest.  It is not often I lay my commands upon you.”

These words were listened to with gratitude and relief by all the party save one, and his brow gloomed darker than before.  Arthyn saw it, and sprang towards Alphonso, who was smiling at his sister in response to her quick words of praise.

“It was his fault —­ his,” she cried, pointing to the scowling Raoul, who looked ill-pleased at having his lips thus sealed.  “He insulted him —­ he insulted me.  No man worthy the name would stand still and listen.  It is the way with these fine gallants of England.  They are ever stirring up strife, and my countrymen bear the blame, the punishment, the odium —­”

But Alphonso took her hand with a gesture of boyish chivalry.

“None shall injure thee or thine whilst I am by, sweet Arthyn.  The nation is dear to me for thy sake, and thy countrymen shall be as our honoured guests and brothers.  Have we not learned to love them for thy sake and their own?  Trouble not thy head more over this mischance, and let it not cloud our day’s sport.

“Raoul,” he added, with some sternness, “thou art a turbulent spirit, and thou lackest the gentle courtesy of a true knight towards those whose position is trying and difficult.  Thou wilt not win thy spurs if thou mendest not thy ways.  Give thy hand now, before my eyes, to the youth thou didst provoke.  If thou marrest the day’s pleasure again, I shall have more to say to thee yet.”

It was not often that the gentle Alphonso spoke in such tones, and therefore his words were the more heeded.  Raoul, inwardly consumed with rage at being thus singled out for rebuke, dared not withstand the order given him, and grudgingly held out his hand.  It was not with much greater alacrity that Llewelyn took it, for there was much stubborn sullenness in his disposition, and his passion, though quickly aroused, did not quickly abate; but there was a compulsion in the glance of the royal boy which enforced obedience; and harmony being thus nominally restored, the party once more breathed freely.