‘There is none!’ said Madame de Ste. Petronelle’s voice in her own tongue; ‘best cease to cry, and not fash the loons more.’
The sisters heard, and in her natural tone Eleanor said in French, ‘Sir, know you who you are thus treating? The King’s daughter--sisters of the Dauphiness!’
He laughed. ‘Full well,’ he answered, in very German-sounding French.
‘Such usage will bring the vengeance of the King and Dauphin on you.’
He laughed yet more loudly. His face was concealed by his visor, but the ill-fitting armour and great roan horse made Jean recognise the knight whose eyes had dwelt on her so boldly at the tournament, and she added her voice.
‘Your Duke of the Tirol will punish this.’
‘He has enough to do to mind his own business,’ was the answer.
‘Come, fair one, hold your tongue! There’s no help for it, and the less trouble you give us the better it will be for you.’
‘But our squire!’ Jean exclaimed, looking about her. ‘Where is he?’
‘Showed fight. Disposed of. See there!’ and Jean could not but recognise the great gray horse from the Mearns that George Douglas had always ridden. Had she brought the gallant youth to this, and without word or look to reward his devotion? She gave one low cry, and bowed her head, grieved and sick at heart. While Eleanor, on her side, exclaimed,
‘Felon, thou hast slain a nobleman’s brave heir! Disgrace to knighthood!’
‘Peace, maid, or we will find means to silence thy tongue,’ growled the leader; and Madame de Ste. Petronelle interposed, ‘Whisht--whisht, my bairn; dinna anger them.’ For she saw that there was more disposition to harshness towards Eleanor than towards Jean, whose beauty seemed to command a sort of regard.
Eleanor took the hint. Her eyes filled with tears, and her bosom heaved at the thought of the requital of the devotion of the brave young man, lying in his blood, so far from his father and his home; but she would not have these ruffians see her weep and think it was for herself, and she proudly straightened herself in her saddle and choked down the rising sob.
On, on they went, at first through the wood by a tangled path, then over a wide moor covered with heather, those mountains, which had at first excited the old lady’s alarm, growing more distinct in front of them; going faster, too, so that the men who held the reins were half running, till the ground began to rise and grow rougher, when, at an order in German from the knight, a man leapt on in front of each lady to guide her horse.