ot
move me to anger, though thou mayst to mirth. Believe me, though thou
mayst have fought with Princes, and played the champion for Countesses,
by some of those freaks which Fortune will sometimes exhibit, thou art
by no means the equal of those of whom thou hast been either the casual
opponent, or more casual companion. I can allow thee like a youth, who
hath listened to romances till he fancied himself a Paladin, to form
pretty dreams for some time, but thou must not be angry at a well
meaning friend, though he shake thee something roughly by the shoulders
to awake thee."

"My Lord of Crevecoeur," said Quentin, "my family--"

"Nay, it was not utterly of family that I spoke," said the Count, "but
of rank, fortune, high station, and so forth, which place a distance
between various degrees and classes of persons. As for birth, all men
are descended from Adam and Eve."

"My Lord Count," repeated Quentin, "my ancestors, the Durwards of Glen
Houlakin--"

"Nay," said the Count, "if you claim a farther descent for them than
from Adam, I have done! Good even to you."

He reined back his horse, and paused to join the Countess, to whom, if
possible, his insinuations and advices, however well meant, were still
more disagreeable than to Quentin, who, as he rode on, muttered to
himself, "Cold blooded, insolent, overweening coxcomb!--Would that the
next Scottish Archer who has his harquebuss pointed at thee, may not let
thee off so easily as I did!"

In the evening they reached the town of Charleroi, on the Sambre, where
the Count of Crevecoeur had determined to leave the Countess Isabelle,
whom the terror and fatigue of yesterday, joined to a flight of fifty
miles since morning, and the various distressing sensations by which it
was accompanied, had made incapable of travelling farther with safety to
her health. The Count consigned her, in a state of great exhaustion, to
the care of the Abbess of the Cistercian convent in Charleroi, a noble
lady, to whom both the families of Crevecoeur and Croye were related,
and in whose prudence and kindness he could repose confidence.

Crevecoeur himself only stopped to recommend the utmost caution to the
governor of a small Burgundian garrison who occupied the place, and
required him also to mount a guard of honour upon the convent during the
residence of the Countess Isabelle of Croye--ostensibly to secure her
safety, but perhaps secretly to prevent her attempting to escape. The
Coun