and reminded her of old unhappy days of constraint, she did not like him, and had almost displeased her husband and his brother by saying so.  She would gladly have avoided the gallantries of this day’s ride by remaining with Philip at the inn; but not only was this impossible, but the peculiar ill-temper of concealed suffering made Philip drive her off whenever she approached him with inquiries; so that she was forced to leave him to his brother and Osbert, and ride forward between the King and the Duke, the last of whom she really liked.

Welcome was the sight of the grand old chateau, its mighty wings of chestnut forest stretching up the hills on either side, and the stately avenue extending before it; but just then the last courier was discovered, reeling in his saddle under the effects of repeated toasts in honour of Navarre and Quinet.

‘We are fairly sped,’ said the Duke to Eustacie, shrugging his shoulders between amusement and dismay.

‘Madame la Duchesse is equal to any galimafre,’ said Eustacie, demurely; at which the Duke laughed heartily, saying, ’It is not for the family credit I fear, but for my own!’

‘Nay, triumph makes everything be forgiven.’

‘But not forgotten,’ laughed the Duke.  ’But, allons.  Now for the onset.  We are already seen.  The forces muster at the gateway.’

By the time the cavalcade were at the great paved archway into the court, the Duchess stood at the great door, a grandson on either side, and a great burly fresh-coloured gentleman behind her.

M. de Quinet was off his horse in a second, his head bare, his hand on the royal rein, and signing to his eldest son to hold the stirrup; but, before the boy had comprehended, Henry had sprung down, and was kissing the old lady’s hand, saying, ’Pardon, Madame!  I trust to your goodness for excusing this surprise from an old friend’s son.’

Neither seeing nor caring for king or prince, the stranger gentleman at the same moment pounced upon Eustacie and her little girl, crying aloud in English, ’Here she is!  My dear, I am glad to see you.  Give her to me, poor Berenger’s little darling.  Ah! she does not understand.  Where’s Merrycourt?’

Just then there was another English exclamation, ’My father!  Father! dear father!’ and Philip, flinging himself from the saddle, fell almost prone on that broad breast, sobbing convulsively, while the eyes that, as he truly boasted, had never wasted a tear on his enemies, were streaming so fast that his father’s welcome savoured of reproof:  ‘What’s all this?  Before these French too.’

‘Take care, father,’ cried Berenger, leaping from his horse; ’he has an ugly wound just where you are holding him.’

‘Wounded! my poor boy.  Look up.’

‘Where is your room, sir?’ said Berenger, seeing his hosts entirely occupied with the King; and at once lifting the almost helpless Philip like a little child in his strong arms, he followed Sir Marmaduke, who, as if walking in his sleep, led the way up the great stone staircase that led outside the house to the upper chambers.