itter or coach, but I
doubt me if I could get past the barrier without my young Lord's
safe-conduct.'

Berenger, hearing all, here made an effort to raise himself, but sank
back against Philip's shoulder. Just then, a trampling and lumbering
became audible, and on the road behind appeared first three horsemen
riding abreast, streaming with black and white ribbons; then eight pair
of black horses, a man walking at the crested heads of each couple, and
behind these a coach, shaped like an urn reversed, and with a coronet
on the top, silvered, while the vehicle itself was, melon-like, fluted,
alternately black, with silver figures, and white with black landscapes;
and with white draperies, embroidered with black and silver, floating
from the windows. Four lacqueys, in the same magpie-colouring, stood
behind, and outriders followed; but as the cavalcade approached the
group by the road-side, one of the horsemen paused, saying lightly,
'Over near the walls from an affair of honour! Has he caught it badly?
Who was the other?'

Ere Guibert could answer, the curtains were thrust aside, the coach
stopped, a lady's head and hand appeared, and a female voice exclaimed,
in much alarm, 'Halt! Ho, you there, in our colours, come here. What is
it? My brother here? Is he wounded?'

'It is no wound, Madame,' said Guibert, shoved forward by his English
comrades, 'it is M. le Baron de Ribaumont who is taken ill, and--ah! here
is Monsieur Philippe.'

For Philip, seeing a thick black veil put back from the face of the most
beautiful lady who had ever appeared to him, stepped forward, hat in
hand, as she exclaimed, 'Le Baron de Ribaumont! Can it be true? What
means this? What ails him?'

'It is his wound, Madame,' said Philip, in his best French; 'it
has broken out again, and he has almost dropped from his horse from
_defaillance_.'

'Ah, bring him here--lay him on the cushions, we will have the honour of
transporting him,' cried the lady; and, regardless of the wet road, she
sprang out of the coach, with her essences in her hand, followed by
at least three women, two pages, and two little white dogs which ran
barking towards the prostrate figure, but were caught up by their pages.
'Ah, cousin, how dreadful,' she cried, as she knelt down beside him, and
held her essences towards him. Voice and scent revived him, and with a
bewildered look and gesture half of thanks, half of refusal, he gazed
round him, then rose to his feet without a