than be
the wife of a coward, who dared neither to lift hand to his wife, nor to
any one else!"

"I should wish you joy of such an active mate, fair aunt," replied
Isabelle, "without envying you, for if broken bones be lovely in
tourneys, there is nothing less amiable in ladies' bower."

"Nay, but the beating is no necessary consequence of wedding with a
knight of fame in arms," said the Lady Hameline, "though it is true that
your ancestor of blessed memory, the Rhinegrave Gottfried, was something
rough tempered, and addicted to the use of Rheinwein.

"The very perfect knight is a lamb among ladies, and a lion among
lances. There was Thibault of Montigni--God be with him!--he was the
kindest soul alive, and not only was he never so discourteous as to lift
hand against his lady, but, by our good dame, he who beat all enemies
without doors, found a fair foe who could belabour him within.--Well,
't was his own fault--he was one of the challengers at the Passage
of Haflinghem, and so well bestirred himself, that, if it had pleased
Heaven, and your grandfather, there might have been a lady of Montigni
who had used his gentle nature more gently."

The Countess Isabelle, who had some reason to dread this Passage of
Haflinghem, it being a topic upon which her aunt was at all times
very diffuse, suffered the conversation to drop, and Quentin, with the
natural politeness of one who had been gently nurtured dreading lest
his presence might be a restraint on their conversation, rode forward to
join the guide, as if to ask him some questions concerning their route.

Meanwhile the ladies continued their journey in silence, or in such
conversation as is not worth narrating, until day began to break, and as
they had then been on horseback for several hours, Quentin, anxious lest
they should be fatigued, became impatient to know their distance from
the nearest resting place.

"I will show it you," answered the guide, "in half an hour."

"And then you leave us to other guidance?" continued Quentin.

"Even so, Seignior Archer," replied the man, "my journeys are always
short and straight. When you and others, Seignior Archer, go by the bow,
I always go by the cord."

The moon had by this time long been down, and the lights of dawn were
beginning to spread bright and strong in the east, and to gleam on the
bosom of a small lake, on the verge of which they had been riding for
a short space of time. This lake lay in the midst of a w