kling
to himself in a manner which strangely distorted his stern and rigid
features, and at the same time shaking his head, as at something which
he could not help condemning, while he found it irresistibly ludicrous.
"My certes, countryman," said he, "but you are not blate--you will never
lose fair lady for faint heart! Crevecoeur swallowed your proposal as
he would have done a cup of vinegar, and swore to me roundly, by all the
saints in Burgundy, that were less than the honour of princes and the
peace of kingdoms at stake, you should never see even so much as the
print of the Countess Isabelle's foot on the clay. Were it not that he
had a dame, and a fair one, I would have thought that he meant to break
a lance for the prize himself. Perhaps he thinks of his nephew, the
County Stephen. A Countess!--would no less serve you to be minting
at?--But come along--your interview with her must be brief.--But I fancy
you know how to make the most of little time--ho! ho! ho!--By my faith,
I can hardly chide thee for the presumption, I have such a good will to
laugh at it!"

With a brow like scarlet, at once offended and disconcerted by the blunt
inferences of the old soldier, and vexed at beholding in what an absurd
light his passion was viewed by every person of experience, Durward
followed Lord Crawford in silence to the Ursuline convent, in which the
Countess was lodged, and in the parlour of which he found the Count de
Crevecoeur.

"So, young gallant," said the latter sternly, "you must see the fair
companion of your romantic expedition once more, it seems."

"Yes, my Lord Count," answered Quentin firmly, "and what is more, I must
see her alone."

"That shall never be," said the Count de Crevecoeur.--"Lord Crawford,
I make you judge. This young lady, the daughter of my old friend and
companion in arms, the richest heiress in Burgundy, has confessed a sort
of a--what was I going to say?--in short, she is a fool, and your man
at arms here a presumptuous coxcomb.--In a word, they shall not meet
alone."

"Then will I not speak a single word to the Countess in your presence,"
said Quentin, much delighted. "You have told me much that I did not
dare, presumptuous as I may be, even to hope."

"Ay, truly said, my friend," said Crawford. "You have been imprudent
in your communications; and, since you refer to me, and there is a good
stout grating across the parlour, I would advise you to trust to it, and
let them do the worst