able estate."

"That is but a stale jest, my friend Tiel," said the Duke; "but, fools
or wise men, here come the defaulters."

As he spoke, Comines and D'Hymbercourt entered the room, and, after
having made their reverence to the two Princes, assumed in silence the
seats which were left vacant for them.

"What ho! sirs," exclaimed the Duke, addressing them, "your sport has
been either very good or very bad, to lead you so far and so late. Sir
Philip de Comines, you are dejected--hath D'Hymbercourt won so heavy
a wager on you?--You are a philosopher, and should not grieve at bad
fortune.--By Saint George D'Hymbercourt looks as sad as thou dost.--How
now, sirs? Have you found no game? or have you lost your falcons? or
has a witch crossed your way? or has the Wild Huntsman [the famous
apparition, sometimes called le Grand Veneur. Sully gives some account
of this hunting spectre. S.] met you in the forest? By my honour, you
seem as if you were come to a funeral, not a festival."

While the Duke spoke, the eyes of the company were all directed towards
D'Hymbercourt and De Comines; and the embarrassment and dejection of
their countenances, neither being of that class of persons to whom such
expression of anxious melancholy was natural, became so remarkable, that
the mirth and laughter of the company, which the rapid circulation
of goblets of excellent wine had raised to a considerable height, was
gradually hushed; and, without being able to assign any reason for such
a change in their spirits, men spoke in whispers to each other, as on
the eve of expecting some strange and important tidings.

"What means this silence, Messires?" said the Duke, elevating his voice,
which was naturally harsh. "If you bring these strange looks, and this
stranger silence, into festivity, we shall wish you had abode in the
marshes seeking for herons, or rather for woodcocks and howlets."

"My gracious lord," said De Comines, "as we were about to return hither
from the forest, we met the Count of Crevecoeur--"

"How!" said the Duke, "already returned from Brabant?--but he found all
well there, doubtless?"

"The Count himself will presently give your Grace an account of his
news," said D'Hymbercourt, "which we have heard but imperfectly."

"Body of me, where is the Count?" said the Duke.

"He changes his dress, to wait upon your Highness," answered
D'Hymbercourt.

"His dress? Saint Bleu!" exclaimed the impatient Prince, "what care I
for