you know the story of
Achilles' lance, which healed with its rust the wounds it made with its
edge: do likewise my lord, do likewise."

"Enough, Ruthven, enough," replied Lindsay; "you are like a corselet of
Milan steel, which is three times as bright as the steel armour of
Glasgow, but which is at the same time thrice as hard: we know one
another, Ruthven, so an end to railleries or threats; enough, believe me,
enough."

And after these words, Lord Lindsay went out first, followed by Ruthven
and Melville, the first with his head high and affecting an air of
insolent indifference, and the second, sad, his brow bent, and not even
trying to disguise the painful impression which this scene had made on
him.' ["History of Scotland, by Sir Walter Scott.--'The Abbott":
historical part.]

CHAPTER VI

The queen came out of her room only in the evening, to take her place at
the window which looked over the lake: at the usual time she saw the
light which was henceforth her sole hope shine in the little house in
Kinross; for a whole long month she had no other consolation than seeing
it, every night, fixed and faithful.

At last, at the end of this time, and as she was beginning to despair of
seeing George Douglas again, one morning, on opening the window, she
uttered a cry. Mary Seyton ran to her, and the queen, without having
strength to speak, showed her in the middle of the lake the tiny boat at
anchor, and in the boat Little Douglas and George, who were absorbed in
fishing, their favourite amusement. The young man had arrived the day
before, and as everyone was accustomed to his unexpected returns, the
sentinel had not even blown the horn, and the queen had not known that at
last a friend had come.

However, she was three days yet without seeing this friend otherwise than
she had just done-that is, on the lake. It is true that from morning
till evening he did not leave that spot, from which he could view the
queen's windows and the queen herself, when, to gaze at a wider horizon,
she leaned her face against the bars. At last, on the morning of the
fourth day, the queen was awakened by a great noise of dogs and horns:
she immediately ran to the window, for to a prisoner everything is an
event, and she saw William Douglas, who was embarking with a pack of
hounds and some huntsmen. In fact, making a truce, for a day, with his
gaoler's duties, to enjoy a pleasure more in harmony with his rank and
birth, he was