“Enough,” said Dunois, “my bar sinister may never be surmounted by the coronet of Croye—I will live and die French. But, yet, though I should lose the lands, I will strike a blow for the lady.”
Le Balafre dared not speak aloud in such a presence, but he muttered to himself,
“Now, Saunders Souplejaw, hold thine own!—thou always saidst the fortune of our house was to be won by marriage, and never had you such a chance to keep your word with us.”
“No one thinks of me,” said Le Glorieux, “who am sure to carry off the prize from all of you.”
“Right, my sapient friend,” said Louis, laughing, “when a woman is in the case, the greatest fool is ever the first in favour.”
While the princes and their nobles thus jested over her fate, the Abbess and the Countess of Crevecoeur endeavoured in vain to console Isabelle, who had withdrawn with them from the council-presence. The former assured her that the Holy Virgin would frown on every attempt to withdraw a true votaress from the shrine of Saint Ursula; while the Countess of Crevecoeur whispered more temporal consolation, that no true knight, who might succeed in the enterprise proposed, would avail himself, against her inclinations, of the Duke's award; and that perhaps the successful competitor might prove one who should find such favour in her eyes as to reconcile her to obedience. Love, like despair, catches at straws; and, faint and vague as was the hope which this insinuation conveyed, the tears of the Countess Isabelle flowed more placidly while she dwelt upon it.
[Saint Ursula: the patron saint of young girls. Tradition says she was martyred by the Huns, together with her eleven thousand companions. Her history has been painted by Carpacelo and by Hans Memling.]
CHAPTER XXXVI: THE SALLY
The wretch condemn'd with life to part,
Still, still on hope relies,
And every pang that rends the heart,
Bids expectation rise.
Hope, like the glimmering taper's light,
Adorns and cheers the way;
And still, the darker grows the night,
Emits a brighter ray.
GOLDSMITH