the leafy canopy above.

"Up, brother Richard!" cried the Count; "thou wast ever a sluggard."
And Richard, at his bidding, filled his hunting-pouch with provisions
for the way, and went before, leading the little Northern nag, which
the Count bestrode. He bore himself bravely under the weight of a
rider whose feet nearly grazed the turf on each side.

Slowly they wound through the tangled wood. "Stay, I will lighten thy
burden for thee," said Robert, "if thou hast not left the bottle
behind. Here's to the fair Bertha. What, thou wilt not drink? Then
thou hast resigned her;--she is not worth a thought. Thou wilt not
peril thy life to see her again, the false one who careth not for
thee. Now depart, and when the king's wrath is overpast, I will
beseech him for thee. Leave thy cause in a brother's hands." But
Richard went not back, though, when they came to the edge of the wood,
they beheld the king's train advancing in the broad highway.

"Fly, Richard; escape while thou mayest!" cried Robert, yet offered
he not the horse for the greater speed. "Found on English ground,
thou diest a felon's death. Disgrace not thy family. Carest thou not
for life?" he cried, pursuing Richard, who stinted not, nor stayed, at
the sight of the king, but the rather hasted forward.

"What is life to me?" said Richard. "Let the king do with me as he
will." He strode onward proudly, with folded arms, offering himself to
the view of Edward, who as yet saw him not, or only as a forester.

"Halt at least that I may spur on and implore for thee," said Robert,
for he hoped that he might deliver him a prisoner to some one in