"It is the Prince of Scotland--the Duke of Rothsay," said the courtiers
around, to the terrified Louise, pressing forward the trembling young
woman; "you must not thwart his humor."

"But I cannot reach your lordship," she said, timidly, "you sit so high
on horseback."

"If I must alight," said Rothsay, "there shall be the heavier penalty.
What does the wench tremble for? Place thy foot on the toe of my boot,
give me hold of thy hand. Gallantly done!" He kissed her as she stood
thus suspended in the air, perched upon his foot and supported by his
hand; saying, "There is thy kiss, and there is my purse to pay it; and
to grace thee farther, Rothsay will wear thy scrip for the day."

He suffered the frightened girl to spring to the ground, and turned his
looks from her to bend them contemptuously on the Earl of Douglas, as
if he had said, "All this I do in despite of you and of your daughter's
claims."

"By St. Bride of Douglas!" said the Earl, pressing towards the Prince,
"this is too much, unmannered boy, as void of sense as honour! You know
what considerations restrain the hand of Douglas, else had you never
dared--"

"Can you play at spang cockle, my lord?" said the Prince, placing a nut
on the second joint of his forefinger, and spinning it off by a smart
application of the thumb. The nut struck on Douglas's broad breast,
who burst out into a dreadful exclamation of wrath, inarticulate, but
resembling the growl of a lion in depth and sternness of expression.

"I cry your pardon, most mighty lord," said the Duke of Rothsay,
scornfully, while all around trembled; "I did not conceive my pellet
could have wounded you, seeing you wear a buff coat. Surely, I trust, it
did not hit your eye?"

The prior, despatched by the King, as we have seen in the last chapter,
had by this time made way through the crowd, and laying hold on
Douglas's rein, in a manner that made it impossible for him to advance,
reminded him that the Prince was the son of his sovereign; and the
husband of his daughter.

"Fear not, sir prior," said Douglas. "I despise the childish boy too
much to raise a finger against him. But I will return insult for insult.
Here, any of you who love the Douglas, spurn me this quean from the
monastery gates; and let her be so scourged that she may bitterly
remember to the last day of her life how she gave means to an
unrespective boy to affront the Douglas."

Four or five retainers instantly stepped forth to