eed
even dared to applaud. But the Dauphin John was stronger in tongue than
in heart.

"Peste!" he cried contemptuously. "'T is a fool's answer and a fool's
will. And well shall we see now how you will sneak out of it all. See,
Lord of Arkell, you who can prate so loudly of Cods and lions: here
before all, I dare you to face Count William's lions yourself!"

The young Lord of Arkell was in his rich court suit--a tight-fitting,
great-sleeved silk jacket, rich, violet chausses, or tights, and pointed
shoes. But without a word, with scarce a look toward his challenger, he
turned to his nearest neighbor, a brave Zealand lad, afterward noted in
Dutch history--Francis von Borselen.

"Lend me your gabardine, friend Franz, will you not?" he said.

The young von Borselen took from the back of the settle, over which it
was flung, his gabardine--the long, loose gray cloak that was a sort of
overcoat in those days of queer costume.

"It is here, my Otto," he said.

The Lord of Arkell drew the loose gray cloak over his rich silk suit,
and turned toward the door.

"Otto von Arkell lets no one call him fool or coward, lord prince," he
said. "What I have dared you all to do, _I_ dare do, if you do not. See,
now: I will face Count William's lions!"

The Princess Jacqueline sprang up in protest.

"No, no; you shall not!" she cried. "My lord prince did but jest, as did
we all. John," she said, turning appealingly to her young husband, who
sat sullen and unmoved, "tell him you meant no such murderous test. My
father!" she cried, turning now toward Count William, whose attention
had been drawn to the dispute, "the Lord of Arkell is pledged to face
your lions!"

Count William of Holland dearly loved pluck and nerve.

"Well, daughter mine," he said, "then will he keep his pledge. Friend
Otto is a brave young gallant, else had he never dared raised spear and
banner, as he did, against his rightful liege."

"But, my father," persisted the gentle-hearted girl, "spear and banner
are not lions' jaws. And surely you may not in honor permit the wilful
murder of a hostage."

"Nay, madam, have no fear," the Lord of Arkell said, bending in
courteous recognition of her interest; "that which I do of mine own free
will is no murder, even should it fail."

And he hastened from the hall.

A raised gallery looked down into the spacious inclosure in which Count
William kept the living specimens of his own princely badge of the lion.
And he