"Ah, your youngest!—I have not seen her since she was a child."
Edward reined in his charger, and the earl threw himself from his selle, and held the king's stirrup to dismount. But he did so with a haughty and unsmiling visage. "I would be the first, sire," said he, with a slight emphasis, and as if excusing to himself his condescension, "to welcome to Middleham the son of Duke Richard."
"And your suzerain, my lord earl," added Edward, with no less proud a meaning, and leaning his hand lightly on Warwick's shoulder, he dismounted slowly. "Rise, lady," he said, raising the countess, who knelt at the porch, "and you too, fair demoiselle. Pardieu, we envy the knee that hath knelt to you." So saying, with royal graciousness, he took the countess's hand, and they entered the hall as the musicians, in the gallery raised above, rolled forth their stormy welcome.
The archbishop, who had followed close to Warwick and the king, whispered now to his brother,
"Why would Edward address the captains?"
"I know not."
"He hath made himself familiar with many in the march."
"Familiarity with a steel casque better becomes a king than waisall with a greasy flat-cap."
"You do not fear lest he seduce from the White Bear its retainers?"
"As well fear that he can call the stars from their courses around the sun."