there be tricks of French chivalry that a man needs to know ere he can
acquit himself well in the lists; and to see you fail would scarce raise
you in the eyes of your lady.'

'More like they would find too much earnest in the midst of their sham?'
returned Geordie. 'You had best tell your English Marquis, as he calls
himself, that he had better not trust a lance in a Scotsman hand, if he
wouldna have all the shams that fret me beyond my patience about their
ears.'

This was not exactly what Sir Patrick told the Marquis; though he was
far from disapproving of the resolution. He kept an eye on this strange
follower, and was glad to see that there was no evil or licence in his
conduct, but that he chiefly consorted with David and a few other
young squires to whom this week, so delightful to the ladies, was
inexpressibly wearisome.

Tournaments have been described, so far as the nineteenth century
can describe them, so often that no one wishes to hear more of their
details. These had nearly reached their culmination in the middle of
the fifteenth century. Defensive armour had become highly ornamental and
very cumbrous, so that it was scarcely possible for the champions to
do one another much harm, except that a fall under such a weight
was dangerous. Thus it was only an exercise of skill in arms and
horsemanship on which the ladies gazed as they sat in the gallery
around Queen Marie, the five young princesses together forming, as the
minstrels declared, a perfect wreath of loveliness. The Dauphiness, with
a flush on her cheek and an eager look on her face, her tall form, and
dress more carefully arranged than usual, looked well and princely;
Eleanor, very like her, but much developed in expression and improved
in looks since she left home, and a beauty of her own; but the palm lay
between the other three--Yolande, tall, grave, stately, and anxious,
with darker blue eyes and brown hair than her sister, who, with her
innocent childish face, showing something of the shyness of a bride, sat
somewhat back, as if to conceal herself between Yolande and Jean, who
was all excitement, her cheeks flushed, and her sunny hair seeming to
glow with a radiance of its own. Duke Sigismund was among the defenders,
in a very splendid suit of armour, made in Italy, and embossed in that
new taste of the Cinquecento that was fast coming in.

The two kings began with an amicable joust, in which Rene had the best
of it. Then they took their