His seat, the lowest, and the nearest to the servitors, was in itself a mark of the low estimation in which he was held.  The Lord Durand had been placed next to Aurora, as a direct encouragement to him, and a direct hint to himself not to presume.  Doubtless, Durand had been at the castle many times, not improbably already been accepted by the Baron, and not altogether refused by Aurora.  As a fact, though delighted with her beauty and conversation, Durand’s presence was entirely due to the will of his father, the Earl, who wished to maintain friendly relations with Baron Thyma, and even then he would not have come had not the lovely weather invited him to ride into the forest.

It was, however, so far true, that though his presence was accidental, yet he was fast becoming fascinated by one who, girl though she was, was stronger in mind than he.  Now Aurora, knowing that he father’s eye was on her, dared not look towards Felix, lest by an open and pronounced conduct she should be the cause of his being informed that his presence was not desirable.  She knew that the Baron only needed a pretext to interfere, and was anxious to avoid offering him a chance.

Felix, seeing her glance bent downwards or towards her companion, and never all the time turned to him, not unnaturally, but too hastily, concluded that she had been dazzled by Durand and the possibility of an alliance with his powerful family.  He was discarded, worthless, and of no account; he had nothing but his sword; nay, he had not a sword, he was only an archer, a footman.  Angry, jealous, and burning with inward annoyance, despising himself since all others despised him, scarce able to remain at the table, Felix was almost beside himself, and did not answer nor heed the remarks of the gentlemen sitting by him, who put him down as an ill-bred churl.

For the form’s sake, indeed, he put his lips to the double-handled cup of fine ale, which continually circulated round the table, and was never allowed to be put down; one servant had nothing else to do but to see that its progress never stopped.  But he drank nothing, and ate nothing; he could not swallow.  How visionary, how weak and feeble now seemed the wild scheme of the canoe and his proposed voyage!  Even should it succeed, years must elapse before he could accomplish anything substantial; while here were men who really had what he could only think of or imagine.

The silver chain or sword-belt of Durand (the sword and the dagger were not worn at the banquet, nor in the house, they were received by the marshal, and deposited in his care, a precaution against quarrelling), solid silver links passing over his shoulder, were real actual things.  All the magnificence that he could call up by the exercise of his imagination, was but imagination; a dream no more to be seen by others than the air itself.