greeting. "We will
forth at once. Will you ride by our fair guest?--The Lady Lucy of
Milan!"

The lady who sat on the white palfrey turned her face towards the Earl
of Kent, and, slightly blushing and smiling, spoke a few words of
courteous French, indicating her acceptance of his society for the day.

She was the most beautiful woman whom Kent had ever seen. Her figure
was very slight, and her carriage easy and graceful; her age was about
twenty. Glossy, luxuriant hair, of the deepest black, shaded a delicate
face, in shape midway between round and oval, the features of which,
though very regular, could not strictly be termed either Roman or
Grecian, for the nose was too straight for the former, while the
forehead was too prominent and too fully developed for the latter. Her
eyes were usually cast down, so that they were rarely seen; but when she
raised them, they showed themselves large, lustrous, and clear, of a
rich, deep, gleaming brown. Her complexion was formed neither of lilies
nor roses; it was that pure, perfect cream-colour, which one William
Shakspere knew was beautiful, though some of his commentators have
rashly differed from him. Add to this description a low, musical voice,
strangely clear for her nationality, and a smile of singular
fascination,--and it will not seem strange that Kent fell into the snare
laid for him, and had no eyes thenceforward but for Lucia Visconti.

The King kept all day near his decoy and his victim. He never
interfered with their conversation, but when it languished he was always
at hand to supply some fresh topic. They spoke French, which was
understood and employed fluently by all three; but Kent knew no Italian,
and Lucia no English. The King spoke Lucia's language well--a fact
which greatly assisted an occasional "aside." But Lucia was only half
aware of the state of affairs, and it would not have suited Henry's
purpose to inform her too fully. She knew that she was expected to make
herself agreeable to the Earl of Kent, and that he was a cousin and
favourite of the King--so far as a man of Henry's stamp can be said to
have had any favourites. But of the plot for which she was made the
innocent decoy, she had not the faintest idea.

The shades of evening began to fall at last, and the royal bugle-horn
was sounded to call the stragglers home.

Kent and Lucia were riding together. They had reached a fork in the
road, where the right-hand path branched off t