his chair. "The boy is safe, and, as you say, Fulk, that is all
that is of importance. Call hither the troubadour that was in the
hall at noon. I would have your opinion of his lay," he added,
turning to his wife.

The indignation may be imagined with which Arthur listened to this
conversation, as he stood on the spot to which Edward had signed to
him to advance, when he presented him to the Princess. He longed
ardently to break in with an angry refutation of the slanders cast
on his uncle, but he was too well trained in the rules of chivalry,
to say nothing of the awful respect with which he regarded the
Prince, to attempt to utter a word, and he could only edge himself
as far away as was possible from Clarenham, and cast at him glances
of angry reproach.

His uneasy movements were interpreted as signs of fatigue and
impatience of restraint by one of the ladies, who was sitting at no
great distance, a very beautiful and graceful maiden, the Lady Maude
Holland, daughter to the Princess of Wales, by her first marriage;
and she kindly held out her hand to him, saying, "Come hither, my
pretty page. You have not learnt to stand stiff and straight, like
one of the supporters of a coat-of-arms. Come hither, and let me
lead you to company better suited to your years."

Arthur came willingly, as there was no more to hear about his uncle;
and besides, it was away from the hateful Clarenham. She led him
across the hall to a tall arched doorway, opening upon a wide and
beautiful garden, filled with the plants and shrubs of the south of
France, and sloping gently down to the broad expanse of the blue
waves of the Garonne. She looked round on all sides, and seeing no