The Count fumed. 'You are a fool, I see, and therefore not to my
purpose. I must talk with men. Stay you here, Eustace, and watch over
her till I return. Let none get at her, on your dear life. There are
those who--sniffing rogues, climbers, boilers of their pots--keep them
out, Eustace, keep them out. As for you'--he turned hectoring to the
proud girl--'As for you, mistress, keep the house. You are not in the
market, you are spoilt goods. You shall go where you should be. I am
still lord of these lands; there shall be no rebellion here. Keep the
house, I say. I return ere many days.' He stamped out of the hall; they
heard him next rating the grooms at the gate.

Saint-Pol was a great house, a noble house, no doubt of it. Its counts
drew no limits in the way of pedigree, but built themselves a fair
temple in that kind, with the Twelfth Apostle himself for head of the
corner. So far as estate went, seeing their country was fruitful,
compact, snugly bounded between France and Normandy (owing fealty to the
first), they might have been sovereign counts, like the house of Blois,
like that of Aquitaine, like that even of Anjou, which, from nothing,
had risen to be so high. More: by marriage, by robbery on that great
plan where it ceases to be robbery and is called warfare, by treaty and
nice use of the balances, there was no reason why kingship should not
have been theirs, or in their blood. Kingship, even now, was not far
off. They called the Marquess of Montferrat cousin, and he (it was
understood) intended to be throned at Jerusalem. The Emperor himself
might call, and once (being in liquor) did call Count Eudo of Saint-Pol
'cousin'; for the fact was so. You must understand that in the Gaul of
that day things were in this ticklish state, that a man (as they say)
was worth the scope of his sword: reiver yesterday, warrior to-morrow;
yesterday wearing a hemp collar, to-day a count's belt, and to-morrow,