h one hand, and laid the
other on his heart, so that she knew where her purse had taken up its
abode.

Of the Field of the Cloth of Gold not much need be said. To the end of
the lives of the spectators, it was a tale of wonder. Indeed without
that, the very sight of the pavilions was a marvel in itself, the blue
dome of Francis spangled in imitation of the sky, with sun, moon, and
stars; and the feudal castle of Henry, a three months' work, each
surrounded with tents of every colour and pattern which fancy could
devise, with the owners banners or pennons floating from the summits,
and every creature, man, and horse, within the enchanted precincts,
equally gorgeous. It was the brightest and the last full display of
magnificent pseudo chivalry, and to Stephen's dazzled eye, seeing it
beneath the slant rays of the setting sun of June, it was a fairy tale
come to life. Hal Randall, who was in attendance on the Cardinal,
declared that it was a mere surfeit of jewels and gold and silver, and
that a frieze jerkin or leathern coat was an absolute refreshment to the
sight. He therefore spent all the time he was off duty in the forge far
in the rear, where Smallbones and his party had very little but hard
work, mending, whetting, furbishing, and even changing devices. Those
six days of tilting when "every man that stood, showed like a mine,"
kept the armourers in full occupation night and day, and only now and
then could the youths try to make their way to some spot whence they
could see the tournament.

Smallbones was more excited by the report of fountains of good red and
white wines of all sorts, flowing perpetually in the court of King
Henry's splendid mock castle; but fortunately one gulp was enough for an
English palate nurtured on ale and mead, and he was disgusted at the
heaps of country folk, men-at-arms, beggars and vagabonds of all kinds,
who swilled the liquor continually, and, in loathsome contrast to the
external splendours, lay wallowing on the ground so thickly that it was
sometimes hardly possible to move without treading on them.

"I stumbled over a dozen," said the jester, as he strolled into the
little staked inclosure that the Dragon party had arranged round their
tent for the prosecution of their labours, which were too important to
all the champions not to be respected. "Lance and sword have not laid
so many low in the lists as have the doughty Baron Burgundy and the
heady knight Messire Sherris S