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withheld from slaughtering them. The maidens stood for a moment, then Jean’s scream of welcome died on her lips, for as he looked up from his prostrate foe, and though he had not yet either spoken or risen, Sigismund had stepped to his side, and laid his sword on his shoulder.

‘Victor!’ said he, ‘in the name of God and St. Mary, I make thee Chevalier. Rise, Sire George of Douglas!’

‘True knight!’ cried Jean, leaping to his side. ‘Oh, Geordie, Geordie, thou hast saved us! Thou noblest knight!’

‘Ah! Lady, it canna be helpit,’ said the new knight. ‘’Tis no treason to your brother to be dubbed after a fair fight, though ‘tis by a Dutch prince.’

‘Thy King’s sister shall mend that, and bind your spurs,’ said Jean. ‘Is the reiver dead, Geordie?’

‘Even so,’ was the reply. ‘My sword has spared his craig from the halter.’

Such were the times, and such Jean’s breeding, that she looked at the fallen enemy much as a modern lady may look at a slain tiger.

Eleanor had meantime met Sigismund with, ‘Ah! well I knew that you would come to our aid. So true a knight must achieve the adventure!’

‘Safe, safe, I am blessed and thankful,’ said the Duke, falling on one knee to kiss her hand. ‘How have these robbers treated my Lady?’

‘Well, as well as they know how. That good woman has been very kind to us,’ said Eleanor, as she saw Barbe peeping from the stair. ‘Come hither, Barbe and Trudchen, to the Lord Duke’s mercy.’

They were entering the hall, and, at the same moment, the gates were thrown open, and the men waiting with Gebhardt and Robert Douglas began to pour in. It was well for Barbe and her daughter that they could take shelter behind the ladies, for the men were ravenous for some prize, or something to wreak their excitement upon, besides the bare walls of the castle, and its rude stores of meal and beer. The old Baron was hauled down from his bed by half-a-dozen men, and placed before the Duke with bound hands.

‘Hola, Siege!’ said he in German, all unabashed. ‘You have got me at last—by a trick! I always bade Rudiger look to that quarry; but young men think they know best.’

‘The old traitor!’ said George in French. ‘Hang him from his tower for a warning to his like, as we should do in Scotland.’

‘What cause have you to show why we should not do as saith the knight?’ said Sigismund.

‘I care little how it goes with my old carcase now,’ returned Balchenburg, in the spirit of the Amalekite of old. ‘I only mourn that I shall not be there to see the strife you will breed with the lute-twanger or his fellows at Nanci.’

Gebhardt here gave his opinion that it would be wise to reserve the old man for King Rene’s justice, so as to obviate all peril of dissension. The small garrison, to be left in the castle under the most prudent knight whom Gebhardt could select, were instructed only to profess to hold it till the Lords of Alsace and Lorraine should jointly have determined what was to be done with it.

It was not expedient to tarry there long. A hurried meal was made, and then the victors set out on the descent. George had found his good steed in the stables, together with the ladies’ palfreys, and there had been great joy in the mutual recognition; but Jean’s horse was found to show traces of its fall, and her arm was not yet entirely recovered, so that she was seated on Ringan’s sure-footed pony, with the new-made knight walking by her side to secure its every step, though Ringan grumbled that Sheltie would be far safer if left to his own wits.

Sigismund was proposing to make for Sarrebourg, when the glittering of lances was seen in the distance, and the troop was drawn closely together, for the chance that, as had been already thought probable, some of the Lorrainers had risen as to war and invasion. However, the banner soon became distinguishable, with the many quarterings, showing that King Rene was there in person; and Sigismund rode forward to greet him and explain.

The chivalrous King was delighted with the adventure, only wishing he had shared in the rescue of the captive princesses. ‘Young blood,’ he said. ‘Youth has all the guerdons reserved for it, while age is lagging behind.’

Yet so soon as Sir Patrick Drummond had overtaken him at Epinal, he had turned back to Nanci, and it was in consequence of what he there heard that he had set forth to bring the robbers of Balchenburg to reason. To him there was no difficulty in accepting thankfully what some would have regarded as an aggression on the part of the Duke of Alsace, and though old Balchenburg, when led up before him, seemed bent upon aggravating him. ‘Ha! Sir King, so a young German and a wild Scot have done what you, with all your kingdoms, have never had the wit to do.’

‘The poor old man is distraught,’ said the King, while Sigismund put in—

‘Mayhap because you never ventured on such audacious villainy and outrecuidance before.’

‘Young blood will have its way,’ repeated the old man. ‘Nay, I told the lad no good would come of it, but he would have it that he had his backers, and in sooth that escort played into his hands. Ha! ha! much will the fair damsels’ royal beau-frere thank you for overthrowing his plan for disposing of them.’

‘Hark you, foul-mouthed fellow,’ said King Rene; ‘did I not pity you for your bereavement and ruin, I should requite that slander of a noble prince by hanging you on the nearest tree.’

‘Your Grace is kindly welcome,’ was the answer.

Rene and Sigismund, however, took counsel together, and agreed that the old man should, instead of this fate, be relegated to an abbey, where he might at least have the chance of repenting of his crimes, and be kept in safe custody.

‘That’s your mercy,’ muttered the old mountain wolf when he heard their decision.

All this was settled as they rode back along the way where Madame de Ste. Petronelle had first become alarmed. She had now quite resumed her authority and position, and promised protection and employment to Barbe and Trudchen. The former had tears for ‘her boy,’ thus cut off in his sins; but it was what she always foreboded for him, and if her old master was not thankful for the grace offered him, she was for him.

King Rene, who believed not a word against his nephew, intended himself to conduct the ladies to the Court of his sister, and see them in safety there. Jean, however, after the first excitement, so drooped as she rode, and was so entirely unable to make answer to all the kindness around her, that it was plain that she must rest as soon as possible, and thus hospitality was asked at a little country castle, around which the suite encamped. A pursuivant was, however, despatched by Rene to the French Court to announce the deliverance of the princesses, and Sir Patrick sent his son David with the party, that his wife and the poor Dauphiness might

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