"But how did he come by those eyes?" answered the queen. "If singing of Reuther's 'beamy gaze' have so richly endowed his own, by getting him to teach me his art, I may warble myself into a complexion as fair as any northern beauty!"
"But then his must not be the subject of your song," whispered the countess with a laugh, "for methinks it is rather of the Ethiop hue!"
During this short dialogue, which was heard by none but the two ladies,
Edward was speaking with Gloucester, and Wallace leaned upon his harp.
"That is enough," said the king to his son-in-law; "now let me hear him play."
The earl gave the word, and Wallace, striking the chords with the master hand of genius, called forth such strains and uttered such tones from his full and richly-modulated voice, that the king listened with wonder, and the queen and countess scarcely allowed themselves to breathe. He sung the parting of Reuther and his bride, and their souls seemed to pant upon his notes; he changed his measure, and their bosoms heaved with the enthusiasm which spoke from his lips and hand, for he urged the hero to battle, he described the conflict, he mourned the slain, he sung the glorious triumph; as the last sweep of the harp rolled its lofty diapason on the ear of the king, the monarch deigned to pronounce him unequaled in his art. Excess of delight so agitated the more delicate frames of the ladies, that while they poured their encomiums on the minstrel, they wiped the glistening tears form their cheeks. The queen approached him, laid her hand upon the harp, and touching the strings with a light finger, said with a sweet smile, "You must remain with the king's musicians, and teach me how to charm as you do!" Wallace replied to this innocent speech with a smile sweet as her own, and bowed.
The countess drew near. Though not much older than the youthful queen, she had been married twice, and being therefore more acquainted with the proprieties of life, her compliments were uttered in a form more befitting her rank, and the supposed quality of the man to whom the queen continued to pour forth her less considerate praises.
Edward desired Gloucester to bring the minstrel closer to him. Wallace approached the royal couch. Edward looked at him from head to foot before he spoke. Wallace bore his eagle gaze with an undisturbed countenance; he neither withdrew his eye from the king, nor did he allow a conqueror's fire to emit from its glance.
"Who are you?" at length demanded Edward, who, surprised at the noble mien and unabashed carriage of the minstrel, conceived some suspicions of his quality.
Wallace saw what was passing in the king's mind, and determining by a frank reply to uproot his doubts, mildly but fearlessly answered:
"A Scot."