jaws, which in
reality had a certain resemblance to those of the animal whose name he
bore, and which was instantly recognized by all who had seen him.

[We have already noticed the anachronism respecting the crimes of this
atrocious baron; and it is scarce necessary to repeat, that if he in
reality murdered the Bishop of Liege in 1482, the Count of La Marck
could not be slain in the defence of Liege four years earlier. In fact,
the Wild Boar of Ardennes, as he was usually termed, was of high birth,
being the third son of John I, Count of La Marck and Aremberg, and
ancestor of the branch called Barons of Lumain. He did not escape the
punishment due to his atrocity, though it did not take place at the
time, or in the manner, narrated in the text. Maximilian, Emperor of
Austria, caused him to be arrested at Utrecht, where he was beheaded in
the year 1485, three years after the Bishop of Liege's death. S.]

"Crawford," said Louis, while Charles sat silent in gloomy and
displeased surprise, "I trust it is one of my faithful Scots who has won
this prize?"

"It is Ludovic Lesly, Sire, whom we call Le Balafre," replied the old
soldier.

"But is he noble?" said the Duke; "is he of gentle blood?--Otherwise our
promise is void."

"He is a cross, ungainly piece of wood enough," said Crawford, looking
at the tall, awkward, embarrassed figure of the Archer; "but I will
warrant him a branch of the tree of Rothes for all that--and they have
been as noble as any house in France or Burgundy ever since it is told
of their founder that--

"'Between the less-lee and the mair,
He slew the Knight, and left him there.'"

[An old rhyme by which the Leslies vindicate their descent from an
ancient knight, who is said to have slain a gigantic Hungarian champion,
and to have formed a proper name for himself by a play of words upon the
place where he fought his adversary. S.]

"There is then no help for it," said the Duke, "and the fairest and
richest heiress in Burgundy must be the wife of a rude mercenary soldier
like this, or die secluded in a convent--and she the only child of our
faithful Reginald de Croye!--I have been too rash."

And a cloud settled on his brow, to the surprise of his peers, who
seldom saw him evince the slightest token of regret for the necessary
consequences of an adopted resolution.

"Hold but an instant," said the Lord Crawford, "it may be better than
your Grace conjectures. Hear but what this