oldness enough to do more than haunt Esclairmonde's
steps, trembling if she glanced towards him, and almost shrinking from
her gaze. He had now no doubts about going on the campaign, and was in
full course of being prepared with equipments, horses, armour, and
attendants, as became a young prince attending on his sovereign as an
adventurer in the camp. It was not even worth while to name such
scruples to the English friar who shrived him on the last day before the
departure, and who knew nothing of his past history. He knew all priests
would say the same things, and as he had never made a binding vow, he saw
no need of consulting any one on the subject; it would only vex him
again, and fill him with doubts. The suspicion that Dr. Bennet was aware
of his previous intention made him shrink from him. So the last day had
come, and all was farewell. King Henry had persuaded the Queen to
seclude herself for one evening from Madame of Hainault, for his sake.
King James was pacing the gardens on the Thames banks, with Joan
Beaufort's hand for once allowed to repose in his; many a noble gentleman
was exchanging last words with his wife--many a young squire whispering
what he had never ventured to say before--many a silver mark was
cloven--many a bright tress was exchanged. Even Ralf Percy was in the
midst of something very like a romp with the handsome Bessie Nevil for a
knot of ribbon to carry to the wars.

Malcolm felt a certain exaltation in being enough like other people to
have a lady-love, but there was not much comfort otherwise; indeed, he
could so little have addressed Esclairmonde that it was almost a
satisfaction that she was the centre of a group of maidens whose lovers
or brothers either had been sent off beforehand, or who saw their
attentions paid elsewhere, and who all alike gravitated towards the
Demoiselle de Luxemburg for sympathy. He could but hover on the
outskirts, conscious that he must cut a ridiculous figure, but unable to
detach himself from the neighbourhood of the magnet. As he looked back
on the happy weeks of unconstrained intercourse, when he came to her as
freely as did these young girls with all his troubles, he felt as if the
King had destroyed all his joy and peace, and yet that these flutterings
of heart and agonies of shame and fits of despair were worth all that
childish calm.

He durst say nothing, only now and then to gaze on her with his great
brown wistful eyes, which he droppe