fled and died in Spain. That
much, of course, I--and the world--know. But the girl--"

"When our victorious monarch took possession of this ancient pile,"
explained the willing courtier, "the only ones left in it were an old
gamekeeper and his daughter, a gipsy-like maid who ran wild in the
woods. Time hath tamed her somewhat, but there she stands."

"And what sad memories of a noble but unfortunate gentleman cluster
around her!" muttered the chancellor. "Alas, for our brief hour of
triumph and favor! Yesterday was he great; I, nothing. To-day, what
am I, while he--is nothing."

A great murmur, resolving itself into shouts and resounding outcry,
interrupted the noble's reminiscent mood, as a thick-set figure in
richly chased armor, mounted on a massive horse, crossed the arena.

"_Bon Vouloir!_" they cried. "_Bon Vouloir!_"

It was the name assumed by the free baron for the day, while other
knights were known for the time being by such euphonious and chivalrous
appellations as _Vaillant Desyr_, _Bon Espoir_ or _Coeur Loyal_. _Bon
Vouloir_, upon this popular demonstration, reined his steed, and,
removing his head-covering, bowed reverently to the king and his suite,
deeply to the Lady of the Tournament and her retinue, and carelessly to
the vociferous multitude, after which he retired to a large tent of
crimson and gold, set apart for his convenience and pleasure.

From the purple box the monarch had nodded graciously and from the
silver bower the lady had smiled softly, so that the duke had no reason
for dissatisfaction; the attitude of the crowd was of small moment, an
unmusical accompaniment to the potent pantomime, of which the principal
figures were Francis, the King Arthur of Europe, and the princess,
queen of beauty's unbounded realm.

In front of the duke's pavilion was hung his shield, and by its side
stood his squire, fancifully dressed in rich colors. Behind ranged the
men of arms, whose lances formed a fence to hold in check the people
from far and wide, among whom the pick-purses, light-fingered scamps,
and sturdy beggars conscientiously circulated, plying themselves
assiduously. The fashion of the day prescribed carrying the purse and
the dagger dangling from the girdle, and many a good citizen departed
from the tourney without the one and with the other, and it is needless
to say which of the two articles the filcher left its owner. And none
was more enthusiastic or demonstrative of the f