with lips blistered with the confession of thine own dishonour--that
thou shouldst NOW dare to name our noble kinswoman as one in whose fate
thou hast part or interest! What is it to thee if she marry Saracen or
Christian? What is it to thee if, in a camp where princes turn cowards
by day and robbers by night--where brave knights turn to paltry
deserters and traitors--what is it, I say, to thee, or any one, if I
should please to ally myself to truth and to valour, in the person of
Saladin?"

"Little to me, indeed, to whom all the world will soon be as nothing,"
answered Sir Kenneth boldly; "but were I now stretched on the rack, I
would tell thee that what I have said is much to thine own conscience
and thine own fame. I tell thee, Sir King, that if thou dost but
in thought entertain the purpose of wedding thy kinswoman, the Lady
Edith--"

"Name her not--and for an instant think not of her," said the King,
again straining the curtal-axe in his gripe, until the muscles started
above his brawny arm, like cordage formed by the ivy around the limb of
an oak.

"Not name--not think of her!" answered Sir Kenneth, his spirits, stunned
as they were by self-depression, beginning to recover their elasticity
from this species of controversy. "Now, by the Cross, on which I place
my hope, her name shall be the last word in my mouth, her image the last
thought in my mind. Try thy boasted strength on this bare brow, and see
if thou canst prevent my purpose."

"He will drive me mad!" said Richard, who, in his despite, was once more
staggered in his purpose by the dauntless determination of the criminal.

Ere Thomas of Gilsland could reply, some bustle was heard without,
and the arrival of the Queen was announced from the outer part of the
pavilion.

"Detain her--detain her, Neville," cried the King; "this is no sight
for women.--Fie, that I have suffered such a paltry traitor to chafe me
thus!--Away with him, De Vaux," he whispered, "through the back entrance
of our tent; coop him up close, and answer for his safe custody with
your life. And hark ye--he is presently to die--let him have a ghostly
father--we would not kill soul and body. And stay--hark thee--we will
not have him dishonoured--he shall die knightlike, in his belt and
spurs; for if his treachery be as black as hell, his boldness may match
that of the devil himself."

De Vaux, right glad, if the truth may be guessed, that the scene ended
without Richard's descending