Grand Bootjack of the kingdom
of France; and for wealth, and for splendor, and for skill and fame
in war, Raoul, the twenty-eighth Baron, was in no-wise inferior to his
noble ancestors.

That the Baron Raoul levied toll upon the river and mail upon the shore;
that he now and then ransomed a burgher, plundered a neighbor, or drew
the fangs of a Jew; that he burned an enemy's castle with the wife
and children within;--these were points for which the country knew and
respected the stout Baron. When he returned from victory, he was sure to
endow the Church with a part of his spoil, so that when he went forth to
battle he was always accompanied by her blessing. Thus lived the Baron
Raoul, the pride of the country in which he dwelt, an ornament to the
Court, the Church, and his neighbors.

But in the midst of all his power and splendor there was a domestic
grief which deeply afflicted the princely Barbazure. His lovely ladies
died one after the other. No sooner was he married than he was a
widower; in the course of eighteen years no less than nine bereavements
had befallen the chieftain. So true it is, that if fortune is a
parasite, grief is a republican, and visits the hall of the great and
wealthy as it does the humbler tenements of the poor.

*****

"Leave off deploring thy faithless, gad-about lover," said the Lady of
Chacabacque to her daughter, the lovely Fatima, "and think how the noble
Barbazure loves thee! Of all the damsels at the ball last night, he had
eyes for thee and thy cousin only."

"I am sure my cousin hath no good looks to be proud of!" the admirable
Fatima exclaimed, bridling up. "Not that I care for my Lord of
Barbazure's looks. MY heart, dearest mother, is with him who is far
away!"

"He danced with thee four galliards, nine quadrilles, and twenty-three
corantoes, I think, child," the mother said, eluding her daughter's
remark.

"Twenty-five," said lovely Fatima, casting her beautiful eyes to the
ground. "Heigh-ho! but Romane danced them very well!"

"He had not the court air," the mother suggested.

"I don't wish to deny the beauty of the Lord of Burbazure's dancing,
mamma," Fatima replied. "For a short, lusty man, 'tis wondrous how
active he is; and in dignity the King's Grace himself could not surpass
him."

"You were the noblest couple in the room, love," the lady cried.

"That pea-green doublet, slashed with orange-tawny, those ostrich
plumes, blue, red, and yellow, those party-color