e escort
the Countess Isabelle returned to the protection of her suzerain.

The Countess was lodged in the Convent of the Ursulines, and with the
Lady Abbess and the Countess of Crevecoeur attended the presence of the
Duke.

In vain Charles stormed and swore that she should marry whom he would.

"My lord," she replied, undismayed, "if you deprive me of my lands, you
take away all that your ancestors' generosity gave, and you break the
only bonds which attach us together. You cannot dispose the hand of any
gentlewoman by force."

The Duke, with a furious glance, turned to his secretary.

"Write," he said, "our doom of forfeiture and imprisonment against this
disobedient and insolent minion! She shall to the penitentiary, to herd
with those whose lives have rendered them her rivals in effrontery!"

There was a general murmur.

"My Lord Duke," said Crevecoeur, "this must be better thought on. We,
your faithful vassals, cannot suffer dishonour to the nobility and
chivalry of Burgundy. If the Countess hath done amiss, let her be
punished--but in the manner that becomes her rank and ours, who stand
connected with her house."

The Duke paused for a moment, and looked full at his counsellor with the
stare of a bull. Prudence, however, prevailed over fury, he saw the
sentiment was general in his council, and, being rather of a coarse and
violent, than of a malignant temper--felt ashamed of his own
dishonourable proposal.

"You are right, Crevecoeur," he said, "and I spoke hastily. Her fate
shall be determined according to the rules of chivalry. Her flight to
Liege hath given the signal for the bishop's murder. He that best
avenges that deed, and brings us the head of the Wild Boar of Ardennes,
shall claim her hand of us; and, if she denies his right, we can at
least grant him her lands, leaving it to his generosity to allow her
what means he will to retire into a convent."

"Nay!" said the Countess. "Think, I am the daughter of Count Reinold--of
your father's old, valiant, and faithful servant. Would you hold me out
as a prize to the best sword-player?"

"Your ancestress," said the Duke, "was won at a tourney--you shall be
fought for in real _melee_. Only thus far, for Count Reinold's sake, the
successful prizer shall be a gentleman of unimpeached birth, and
unstained bearings, but, be he such, and the poorest who ever drew the
strap of a sword-belt through the tongue of a buckle, he shall have at
least the proffer