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ask your opinion as to the person who should be employed in the affair. He must be of mature age-about your own years, for instance; he must be a valiant knight, such as would support the dignity of his master against the companions of the Round Table themselves; and as it would be well, more especially on this blessed day, and when I am just about to enter the house of my heavenly protector, the most holy martyr St. Stephen, to combine charity with the appointment, he must be poor,-miserably poor, if possible-the poorer the better. Know you such a one?"

"Sir," said Arthault, "I do. There is the Sire de Longueval, a man of honour and courage, an old man too, and passing poor withal.”

"That is the noble person," remarked the count, 66 on whose daughter, if I mistake not, you have cast your eyes for a wife for your son. If the marriage takes place, your family and his will be as one, and, therefore, passing rich, my friend. Set him aside."

"Well, sir, there is Sir Gui de Marmont, who has lately soldhis estate-"

"That he may buy another. How is this, sir? Have we no man in our dominions who is at once brave, proud, and poor?" The count spoke in a tone of displeasure, and spurred on.

Arthault for an instant was cast down. The description resembled in a most striking manner Sir Launcelot Sansavoir, and a panic struck the heart of the bourgeois, occasioned by his consciousness of the injustice he committed in omitting to name the ruined knight. Circumstances, however, had very lately occurred to add tenfold bitterness to his enmity; and as Sir Launcelot had informed his daughter, the harsh step now adopted by the creditors was mainly owing to the evil influence of Arthault. Even the present displeasure of the prince was set down to the account of hatred; and, with a constantly recurring pang, he found that his heretofore friend was in some way or other an object of dread even in the gulf of ruin.

When the cortège had entered the town, however, the spirits of the serf revived. The crowd gathered; the buzz ran round and round, till increasing in volume, it rose into the shout of welcome. The hoinage of the people seemed to distinguish alike master and servant. Henri was the great and the liberal; and Arthault, as the minister of his greatness and liberality, was scarcely farther separated from him in imagination than a member is from the body. Hats were waved, and knees bent

as they passed; and the voice that cried "God bless our good Count Henri!" never failed to add "Honour to Arthault !"

They at length reached the steps of the great door of St. Stephen's church; and the multitude ceasing their shouts in respect to the sanctity of the place, gathered still and silent around. The noble party dismounted, and began to ascend the stairs; Count Henri walking first, and Arthault following closely behind. When the count had gained the landing-place, a slight stir was observed among the people gathered round the door; and presently a knight, leading a young female by the hand, detached himself from the crowd; and approached the sovereign.

It was Sir Launcelot Sansavoir, arrayed in his tarnished coatof-arms; and no less faded were seen the roses in the cheeks of his lovely daughter, as pale, trembling, and abashed, she tottered by his side.

"How now, musart ?"* said the count. "It is long since thou hast honoured our poor court with thy presence; where hast thou been?"

"I have been in the shade," replied the knight.

"And whither wouldst thou now, in the name of God?" Sir Launcelot knelt before his prince.

"Sir Count," said he, "I am for the Italian wars, if you will grant me your permission. My daughter, whom you now see, has no one to protect her in my absence, and I have no property left to support her. I therefore beg of you, for the love of honour and chivalry, and in the name of the most holy martyr St. Stephen, to bestow upon her a dowry, and appoint her a husband."t

"Sir Knight," said Arthault, pressing eagerly in between, "this is ill done! Our master has been so generous and liberal already that he has nothing more to give.--Away! Room for my Lord Count!"

At this scene, so interesting to the idle curiosity of some, and to the better feelings of others, a rush was made by the people towards the speakers, but almost noiselessly, so great was their anxiety to hear, and in a moment a dense circle was formed round the party. Count Henri looked for many moments sternly into the face of Arthault.

"Sir Bourgeois," said he at last, "you have spoken falsely, in asserting that I have no longer wherewithal to give away. Are not you my property, the serf of my domain? And is it

* Idler, one who amuses himself with doing nothing.

+ Joinville.

VOL. II.-4

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not in my power to bestow what is mine own; Sir Knight, I give this man to you, and, in the presence of these witnesses, I warrant him your bondsman !"* And having so spoken, heinstantly turned away, and passed into the church.

Arthault looked as if he had been struck by thunder, and was about to sink upon the earth; but in a moment his fainting senses were recalled by the rude grasp of the knight, who seized his prey by the throat; and as the two enemies gazed into each other's faces, the look of wonder, mingled with fear and horror in the one, contrasted strangely with the glare of exultation and revenge which illumined the features of the other.

The crowd for some moments were dumb with astonishment; but by degrees their feelings burst forth in various exclamations; and Arthault had the further misery to distinguish, in the shout which arose, an expression of the popular satisfaction at his downfall. Not the least interesting portion of the scene, however, was the part played by the bondsman's son. Insensible of his father's or his own disgrace, he was leaning distractedly over Amable; who, oppressed by a crowd of contending feelings, had fainted the moment the sentence of the count was pronounced. When she at last reopened her eyes, he lifted her up tenderly in his arms, and followed with his burthen her stern father, who, forgetful even of his beloved daughter, was engaged in dragging away the slave who had thus suddenly fallen into his domain.

As they passed the Château de Nogent, Arthault in vain entreated his new master to enter, offering to pay him down five hundred livres of ransom on the spot.t

"Come on, come on," said Sir Launcelot, fiercely, "it is time enough to talk of ransom; you shall first visit the house of your lord;" and they went on in silence. When they entered the old avenue, where the bondsman's foot had not been for many years-not since the noble oaks had been cut down, and thorns and brambles had choked up the once crowded path, and the hare had couched where the war-horse was wont to prance-he paused, and hung back for a moment.

This was the domain of memory. Every tree, every stone had its legend; and the vacant places, where trees and monuments had once stood, were filled with shadows that seemed as palpable to the senses. It was here he had played with his noble companion ;-it was along this avenue he had first passed

*This story is told with great naïveté by the Lord de Joinville, as an instance of Count Henri's liberality.

at Joinville.

in fear and curiosity, to obtain a view of the princely mansion ;--it was in this place he had stood, abashed and almost appalled, with his bonnet between his knees and his hands crossed upon his breast, when a cortège of knights and noble ladies once floated along the path;-and it was on this very spot that young Launcelot, in midst of them all, had leaped from his horse, and, with a cry of joy, had thrown himself into his arms.

As they approached the ruined pile, a sensation of awe passed across the heart of Arthault. The drawbridge-that object of his boyish fear and wonder-was firmly bedded in the earth, and the broken chains swung mournfully in the wind. As he crossed, the rank weeds waved against his knees, and the rotting plank beneath, which was here and there still visible, looked like the coffin of some long-buried friend. The upper apartments of the house, he could see through the rents in the mouldering walls, were hung with ivy instead of tapestry, and the wallflower surmounted the broken turrets, where silken banners had once floated in the breeze. thault shivered as he passed into the cold, dark shadow of the ruin; the hoarse caw of a rook, which came from different parts of the interior, fell upon his ear with a boding sound; and he started at the flapping of black wings which passed the windows, as if he had seen a spirit.

Ar

The apartment which they entered appeared to serve at once for kitchen, hall, and sleeping-room. The knight's bed stood in a corner; one or two broken cooking utensils lay upon the fireless hearth; and on the single table with which the room was furnished, there were a distaff, the fragment of a mirror, and a church missal. Two chairs, which bore the appearance of having once been gilded, closed the inventory.

The lord of this mansion of desolation, as if fatigued with his walk, sat down; and Arthault, in whose heart the past and the present were struggling as if in a chaos, turned his eyes upon his heretofore friend. The blight of sorrow and mortification had fallen upon those features once resplendent with manly beauty. The brow which might have imaged

-the front of Jove himself,

was ploughed into deep furrows; and

The eye, like Mars, to threaten or command,

presented a care-worn, anxious expression, which spoke only

too plainly of bitter days and sleepless nights. His beard neg lected his grizzled hair—bis faded dress, on which the family arms were still almost entire, through the patient ingenuity of pride and want-all contributed to form a portrait on which the spectator seemed to gaze as if in spite of himself.

Arthault was moved; and at last his lip trembled as he gazed. This was the house where he had been cherished when a boy!-There sat his first patron, his early friend-the proud, the brave, the beautiful, the generous, the princely Sansavoir! Perhaps his emotion was observed by Sir Launcelot, and excited an unconscious sympathy; for his look and manner gradually softened almost into kindness. He, too, thought of old times and feelings; and it may be that his present triumph enabled him to think of them with less of bitterness than usual.

"Come, come," said he at length, in a gruff and sudden tone, as if ashamed of some fancied weakness, "let us now talk of your ransom. I accept the five hundred livres you have offered. Are you still in the mind to give them?" Arthault did not answer for some moments. At last he muttered, "No!" but it was in a hoarse and broken voice.

"No!" he continued, advancing with tottering steps,"not five hundred, but five thousand--all I possess my lands -my houses-my gold;-they are a debt-all-all are yours, my kind and noble patron-my early friend--my benefactormy master!" and he threw himself upon his knees before Sir Launcelot, and seizing his hands, covered them with tears and kisses.

As quick as a sunbeam-as light and radiant as angels are pictured in our dreams, Amable flew, and raised him from his knees, and seated him in a chair beside her father: She drew their arms round each other's necks; and the knight, overcome with emotion, drooped his head upon his bondsman's shoulder, and the two old men sobbed aloud.

"You weep, Guillaume !" said Amable, with streaming eyes "I am sure you weep-weep, or I will not love you!" "Angel of light!" whispered the lover, hiding his averted face in her hair; and when Amable found that her neck was wet with tears, she pressed him in her arms.

At this instant Count Henri entered the room, and advanced hurriedly to the group.

"How now, Sir Knight!" said he, sternly: "what is this? Do you dare to trifle with me? An hour ago you begged me to find a husband for your daughter, and now I see her-in your own presence-in a man's arins!"

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