added."

"What mean you by that, Sir Fulk de Clarenham?" cried Gaston; "for
what do you take me and my word?"

"Certain tales of you and your companions, Sir Squire," answered
Clarenham, "do not dispose me to take a Gascon's word for more than
it is worth."

"This passes!" cried Gaston, striking his fist on the table; "you
venture it because you are not of my degree! Here, ye craven
Squires, will not one of you take up my glove, when I cast back
in his teeth your master's foul slander of an honourable Esquire?"

"Touch it not, I command you," said Clarenham, "unless Master
d'Aubricour will maintain that he never heard of a certain one-
eyed Basque, and never rode on a free-booting foray with the robber
Knight, Perduccas d'Albret."

"What of that?" fiercely cried Gaston.

"Quite enough, Sir Squire," said Fulk, coolly.

Gaston was about to break into a tempest of rage, when Eustace's
calm voice and gesture checked him.

"Sir Fulk," said Eustace, "were you at Bordeaux, you would know that
no man's word can be esteemed more sacred, or his character more high,
than that of Gaston d'Aubricour."