verlet pulled up to his
chin. "Pardon, Highness," said Lord Hastings, "but I am an ill man. I
cannot rise from this couch."

"I do not question the gravity of your disorder," the Queen retorted,
"since it is well known that the same illness brought about the death
of Iscariot. Nevertheless, I bid you get up and lead our troops
against the Scot."

Now the hand of the Marquess veiled his countenance. But, "I am an ill
man," he muttered, doggedly. "I cannot rise from this couch."

There was a silence.

"My lord," the Queen presently began, "without is an army prepared--ay,
and quite able--to defend our England. The one requirement of this
army is a leader. Afford them that, my lord--ah, I know that our peers
are sold to the Bruce, yet our yeomen at least are honest. Give them,
then, a leader, and they cannot but conquer, since God also is honest
and incorruptible. Pardieu! a woman might lead these men, and lead
them to victory!"

Hastings answered: "I am an ill man. I cannot rise from this couch."

You saw that Philippa was not beautiful. You perceived that to the
contrary she was superb, saw the soul of the woman aglow, gilding the
mediocrities of color and curve as a conflagration does a hovel.

"There is no man left in England," said the Queen, "since Sire Edward
went into France. Praise God, I am his wife!" And she was gone
without flurry.

Through the tent-flap Hastings beheld all that which followed. The
English force was marshalled in four divisions, each commanded by a
bishop and a baron. You could see the men fidgeting, puzzled by the
delay; as a wind goes about a corn-field, vague rumors were going about
those wavering spears. Toward them rode Philippa, upon a white
palfrey, alone and perfectly tranquil. Her eight lieutenants were now
gathered about her in voluble protestation, and she heard them out.
Afterward she spoke, without any particular violence, as one might
order a strange cur from his room. Then the Queen rode on, as though
these eight declaiming persons had ceased to be of interest, and reined
up before her standard-bearer, and took the standard in her hand. She
began again to speak, and immediately the army was in an uproar; the
barons were clustering behind her, in stealthy groups of two or three
whisperers each; all were in the greatest amazement and knew not what
to do; but the army was shouting the Queen's name.

"Now is England shamed," said Hastings, "since a woman