have dispensed with all, my dearest kinswoman," answered
Isabelle, in a voice which penetrated to the very heart of her young
conductor and guard, "with all, for a safe and honourable retirement. I
wish not--God knows, I never wished--to occasion war betwixt France and
my native Burgundy, or that lives should be lost for such as I am. I
only implored permission to retire to the Convent of Marmoutier, or to
any other holy sanctuary."

"You spoke then like a fool, my cousin," answered the elder lady, "and
not like a daughter of my noble brother. It is well there is still
one alive who hath some of the spirit of the noble House of Croye. How
should a high born lady be known from a sunburnt milkmaid, save that
spears are broken for the one, and only hazel poles shattered for the
other? I tell you, maiden, that while I was in the very earliest bloom,
scarcely older than yourself, the famous Passage of Arms at Haflinghem
was held in my honour, the challengers were four, the assailants so many
as twelve. It lasted three days, and cost the lives of two adventurous
knights, the fracture of one backbone, one collarbone, three legs, and
two arms, besides flesh wounds and bruises beyond the heralds' counting,
and thus have the ladies of our House ever been honoured. Ah! had you
but half the heart of your noble ancestry, you would find means at some
court where ladies' love and fame in arms are still prized, to maintain
a tournament at which your hand should be the prize, as was that of your
great grandmother of blessed memory, at the spear running of Strasbourg,
and thus should you gain the best lance in Europe, to maintain the
rights of the House of Croye, both against the oppression of Burgundy
and the policy of France."

"But, fair kinswoman," answered the younger Countess, "I have been
told by my old nurse, that although the Rhinegrave [formerly a Rhenish
prince] was the best lance at the great tournament at Strasbourg, and so
won the hand of my respected ancestor, yet the match was no happy
one, as he used often to scold, and sometimes even to beat, my great
grandmother of blessed memory."

"And wherefore not?" said the elder Countess, in her romantic enthusiasm
for the profession of chivalry, "why should those victorious arms,
accustomed to deal blows when abroad, be bound to restrain their
energies at home? A thousand times rather would I be beaten twice a day
by a husband whose arm was as much feared by others as by me,