ss the hem of her robe. One by one
the knights and the nobles and the great officers of the Crown did
homage to the dead woman, and when all had bowed before what was left of
the beautiful Ines they placed her in a splendid coffin, which was borne
by knights over the seven leagues that lay between Coimbra and
Alcobaca, the royal burying-place of the Portuguese. In this magnificent
cloister a tomb had been prepared carved in white marble, and at the
head stood a statue of Ines in the pride of her beauty, crowned a queen.
Bishops and soldiers, nobles and peasants, lined the road to watch the
coffin pass, and thousands with lighted torches followed the dead woman
to her resting place, till the whole long road from Coimbra to Alcobaca
was lit up with brightness. So, solemnly, Ines de Castro was laid in her
grave, and the honours which had been denied her in life were heaped
around her tomb.[27]

FOOTNOTE:

[27] Schaefer's _Geschichte von Portugal_.

_THE STORY OF ORTHON_

[There may be some who doubt whether the following
story is in all respects perfectly true. It is
taken, however, from a history book, the
'Chronicle of Jean Froissart,' who wrote about the
wars of the Black Prince.]

GREAT marvel it is to think and consider of a thing that I will tell
you, and that was told to me in the house of the Comte de Foix at
Orthez, by him who gave me to know concerning the battle of Juberot. And
I will tell you of this matter, what it was, for since the Squire told
me this tale, whereof you shall presently have knowledge, certes I have
thought over it a hundred times, and shall think as long as I live.

'Certain it is,' quoth the Squire, 'that the day after the fight at
Juberot the Comte de Foix knew of it, whereat men marvelled much how
this might be. And all day, on the Sunday and the Monday and the Tuesday
following, he made in his castle of Orthez such dull and simple cheer
that none could drag a word out of him. All these three days he would
not leave his chamber, nor speak to knight or squire, howsoever near him
they might be. And when it came to Tuesday at evening, he called his
brother, Sir Ernault Guillaume, and said to him in a low voice:

'"Our men have fought, whereat I am grieved; for that has befallen them
of their journey which I told them before they set out."

'Sir Ernault, who is a right wise knight and of good counsel, knowing
well the manner a