name.

"Raoul, this is your doing, I warrant. Shame on you for thus falling
upon my father's guest in his absence, and he a stranger and an alien!
Shame on you, I say!"

But scarce had these words been uttered before a shrill cry broke from
several of the girls, who were watching the strange scene with tremulous
excitement. For young Llewelyn, maddened and blinded by the heat of his
passion, and not knowing either who Alphonso was or by what right he
interposed betwixt him and his foe, turned furiously upon him, and
before any one could interpose, a deep red gash in the boy's wrist
showed what the Welsh lad's blade had done.

Wendot, Griffeth, and Godfrey flung themselves upon the mad youth, and
held him back by main force. In Raoul's eyes there was an evil light of
triumph and exultation.

"Llewelyn, Llewelyn, art mad? It is the king's son," cried Wendot in
their native tongue; whilst Joanna sprang towards her brother and
commenced binding up the gash, the lad never for a moment losing his
presence of mind, or forgetting in the smart of the hurt the dignity of
his position.

Llewelyn's fierce burst of passion had spent itself, and the sense of
Wendot's words had come home to him. He stood shamefaced and sullen, but
secretly somewhat afraid; whilst Arthyn trembled in every limb, and if
looks would have annihilated, Raoul would not have existed as a
corporate being a moment longer.

"Gentlemen," said Alphonso, turning to those about him, and holding up
his bandaged hand, "this is the result of accident -- pure accident.
Remember that, if it ever comes to the ears of my father. This youth
knew not what he did. The fault was mine for exposing myself thus
hastily. As you value the goodwill in which I hold you all, keep this
matter to yourselves. We are not prince or subject today, but comrades
bent on sport together. Remember and obey my behest. It is not often I
lay my commands upon you."

These words were listened to with gratitude and relief by all the party
save one, and his brow gloomed darker than before. Arthyn saw it, and
sprang towards Alphonso, who was smiling at his sister in response to
her quick words of praise.

"It was his fault -- his," she cried, pointing to the scowling Raoul,
who looked ill-pleased at having his lips thus sealed. "He insulted him
-- he insulted me. No man worthy the name would stand still and listen.
It is the way with these fine gallants of England. They are ever
stirring up