was by no means master of himself, and he saw in his flushed
brow, and blood-shot eye, reason to fear for the future effect of
the present excess. There was suppressed laughter among the men
at some of his sallies. Without being positively in disorder, the
troop did not display the well-arrayed aspect which had always
hitherto distinguished the Lances of Lynwood; and poor Eustace,
wearied and worn out, his right-hand man failing him, dispirited
by Chandos's reproach, and feeling all the cares of the world on
his shoulders, had serious thoughts of going to the Prince, and
resigning the command for which he was unfit.

At last he beheld the Cathedral of Burgos rising in the midst of
the Moorish fortifications of the town, and, halting his men under
the shade of a few trees, he rode on in search of the marshals of
the camp, and as soon as the open space for his tents had been
assigned, he returned to see them raised. Gaston, who had of late
become more silent, was lifted from his mule, and assisted into the
tent, where he was laid on his couch, and soon after, Eustace was
relieved from his anxiety on Leonard Ashton's account, by his
appearance. He came stumbling in without one word of apology,
only declaring himself as weary as a dog, and, throwing himself
down on a deer-skin on his own side of the tent, was fast asleep
in another minute.






CHAPTER VI