ch to be so frank as this coming Countess here, who hangs
on our arms as dead a weight as a wool pack. I loved the lad too, and
would have done him a kindness: to wed him to this old woman was to make
his fortune, to unite him to Isabelle were to have brought on him De
la Marck, Burgundy, France--every one that challenges an interest in
disposing of her hand. And this silly woman's wealth being chiefly in
gold and jewels, we should have had our share. But the bow string has
burst, and the arrow failed. Away with her--we will bring her to William
with the Beard. By the time he has gorged himself with wassail, as
is his wont, he will not know an old Countess from a young one. Away,
Rizpah--bear a gallant heart. The bright Aldebaran still influences the
destinies of the Children of the Desert!"

CHAPTER XXI: THE SACK

The gates of mercy shall be all shut up,
And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart,
In liberty of bloody hand shall range,
With conscience wide as hell.

HENRY V

The surprised and affrighted garrison of the Castle of Schonwaldt had,
nevertheless, for some time made good the defence of the place against
the assailants, but the immense crowds which, issuing from the city of
Liege, thronged to the assault like bees, distracted their attention,
and abated their courage.

There was also disaffection at least, if not treachery, among the
defenders, for some called out to surrender, and others, deserting their
posts, tried to escape from the castle. Many threw themselves from the
walls into the moat, and such as escaped drowning, flung aside their
distinguishing badges, and saved themselves by mingling among the motley
crowd of assailants. Some few, indeed, from attachment to the Bishop's
person, drew around him, and continued to defend the great keep, to
which he had fled, and others, doubtful of receiving quarter, or from
an impulse of desperate courage, held out other detached bulwarks and
towers of the extensive building. But the assailants had got possession
of the courts and lower parts of the edifice, and were busy pursuing
the vanquished, and searching for spoil, while one individual, as if he
sought for that death from which all others were flying, endeavoured to
force his way into the scene of tumult and horror, under apprehensions
still more horrible to his imagination than the realities around were to
his sight and senses. Whoever had seen Quentin Durward that