clearing. Pulling up his steed, he slightly inclined his head, and sat in the stern and composed fashion with which he had borne himself throughout, heedless of the applauding shouts and the flutter of kerchiefs from the long lines of brave men and of fair women who were looking down upon him.
'Sir knight,' said the prince, 'we have all marvelled this day at the great skill and valour with which God has been pleased to endow you. I would fain that you should tarry at our court, for a time at least, until your hurt is healed and your horses rested.'
'My hurt is nothing, sire, nor are my horses weary,' returned the stranger in a deep stern voice.
'Will you not at least hie back to Bordeaux with us, that you may drain a cup of muscadine and sup at our table?'
'I will neither drink your wine nor sit at your table,' returned the other. 'I bear no love for you or for your race, and there is naught that I wish at your hands until the day when I see the last sail which bears you back to your island vanishing away against the western sky.'
'These are bitter words, sir knight,' said Prince Edward, with an angry frown.
'And they come from a bitter heart,' answered the unknown knight. 'How long is it since there has been peace in my hapless country? Where are the steadings and orchards and vineyards which made France fair? Where are the cities which made her great? From Provence to Burgundy we are beset by all the prowling hirelings in Christendom, who vend and tear the country which you have left too weak to guard her own marches. Is it not a byword that a man may ride all day in that unhappy land without seeing thatch upon roof or hearing the crow of cock? Does not one fair kingdom content you, that you should strive so for this other one which has no love for you? Pardieu! a true Frenchman's words may well be bitter, for bitter is his lot, and bitter his thoughts as he rides through his thrice unhappy country.'
