“Highness,” said Xit, as he presented her, “in this damsel, ordinarily known as Lilias Ringwood, you behold the Princess Josyan.”
Scarcely were the words uttered, than a lattice, immediately above the central arch of the Bar-gate, was thrown open, and an angry female face appeared.
“’Tis false!” screamed Lady le Grand, for she it was—“’tis false, I say! I am the real Princess Josyan, and no one shall usurp the part. I am shut up here under lock and key, or I would soon strip that vile hussy of her attire, which belongs of right to me. Doff it at once, minion.”
“Retire on the instant, I command you, Madam,” screamed Xit, shaking his hand furiously at her.
“I shall obey no orders of thine, thou contemptible little monster,” rejoined Lady le Grand, in a shrill voice. “Let me out, or it shall be worse for thee. How dare you put another woman in my place? Lilias Ringwood shall not enact the part assigned to me.”
“Marry, but she shall,” rejoined Xit. “His Highness desired that the youngest and fairest of the two claimants should be brought forth. Thou art neither so young nor so lovely as Lilias, and art consequently superseded. Retire, I say.”
Before Lady le Grand could make any further rejoinder, Philip interposed.
“But what says Sir Bevis himself?” he demanded. “Since he is chiefly concerned in the matter, the choice of a princess ought to rest with him. Methinks he cannot hesitate.”
“Assuredly not, your Highness,” rejoined the gigantic warrior, inclining his head. “I am right glad of the exchange.”
“Then take fair Lilias to him,” said Philip. “Remember the fate of the strong man of Israel,” he added to Sir Bevis, “and be not subdued like him. Otherwise, thou mayst have reason to repent thy choice.”