of all power when I approach her - from my hatred of those I loved the dearest my loathing of food-my willingness not to sleep, but to dream- my inaptitude to all warlike exercise- from my fierce indolence, impatient, yet melancholy, hating the voice of men, even of my best-loved and heart-cherished friend, yet crouching to catch a woman's whispers, though it were her meanest damsel's -from my fearful indifference even to Heaven, as, while I bow to the image of the Virgin, but utter ́another name if from my wildness, worthlessness, irritation, and melancholy, she knows it not, then am I the most illstarred of lovers, and she of ladies the most insensate."

"O no, she is not!" said the Lady Isabelle half internally, and dropping her veil between her and Paladour.-But these whispered words, which he would almost have given his life to hear, were drowned in the blasts of the warders' horns that rung out from every turret of the castle; not in that heavy tone that announced. the approach of the weary messenger from

Rome, but with that loud and lively blast that harbingers a distinguished guest.

These sounds were soon echoed distantly, but distinctly, by the trumpets of the party whose approach the warders had descried. The hall was hushed, and listening, "It is the trumpet of the heretics, that seek to treat for ransom of prisoners," said Sir Aymer, laughing; " hast thou many to yield them, Lord of Courtenaye?"

"Methinks it is the trumpet of the legate, muttered the abbot. "Pray Heaven the ascetic monk comes not with him; then will the viands and flagons disappear in a twinkling.-Page, fill my goblet ere the worst befall — higher fuller, I say! By Saint Benedict, one would think the monk of Montcalm himself were measuring my draught!"

"It is the trumpet of Count Simon de Monfort," said the bishop of Toulouse; "I know its sound."

Another moment removed all doubt; the jarring and creaking of the ponderous drawbridge as it was lowered, the hollow tramp of

the men-at-arms, and the ringing hoofs of the steeds of mounted knights, as the former pranced and curvetted over its sounding arch, were blended not unmeetly with the re-echoing horns, blown shriller and louder as the object of their salutation approached, with the trum-. pets of the heralds, who advanced into the court to greet him with the high ceremonial of chivalric honour, and with those of the noble stranger's train, which were drowned in the war-cry of a thousand followers, knights, squires, and vassals, all pealing in wild and deep accordance, Simon de Monfort-Dieu et l'Eglise!

The heavy tread of armed steps was heard approaching the hall the folding doors were expanded to their utmost limits by the pagesmarshal and minstrel, sewer and seneschal, were all in their places to perform their appropriate rites of ceremony-the guests rose from their seats, and the Lord of Courtenaye was gracefully carrying the cup of wine to his lips, about to give as his pledge the health of De Monfort, when the object of all this homage

strode into the hall; and following him like skiffs in the wake of some mighty galleon, came knights and squires of noble birth, with their various trains of attendants; and, as they floated on in a tide of gorgeous and gloomy magnificence, seemed as if they entered the castle rather as conquerors than guests. The courtesy with which the company was prepared to receive the champion of the church was repelled by the uncouth and unnurtured fashion in which he made his entry. Armed from head to foot, and scanning the guests through the bars of his helmet as he would the features of a foe, he stalked to the board end of the hall, like an iron tower that was moved by some internal mechanism.

Arrived there, without greeting the lord of the castle, or bowing to the lady of the feast, he flung himself on a seat, and made signs to his squires to undo his helm and gorget. While this was performing, he growled internal curses at their unskilfulness; and, rending all asunder, flung the weighty pieces of armour on the floor, and disclosed a visage that ac

corded with the promise of his figure. The latter was gigantic, of a clownish heavy make, but unequalled in strength; the former were coarse and inexpressive, but sometimes lit by a gleam of rude jocularity, and oftener by a glare of ruthless and savage ferocity. As he flung his helmet on the floor, his heavy but not undiscriminating eye rested for a moment on the Lady Isabelle; and the omnipotence of female beauty received at the moment that homage of instinct which is perhaps the most powerful, as it is the most sincere. he viewed the fair vision, the jaws of the uncourtly gazer involuntarily expanded, his cold eyes twinkled and rolled in their sockets, and his vague and savage laugh indicated that species of admiration, which, wanting words, announces itself by a fierce and involuntary delight. This rude homage paid, the Count de Monfort began to give a glance of surly recognition at the guests.

As

My Lord of Monfort, we pledge you,' repeated the Lord of Courtenaye, holding his goblet high.

VOL. I.