"A noble answer," whispered Anne, with something like sisterly
admiration.

"Too noble," said the more ambitious Isabel, in the same voice, "for
Clarence's future wife not to fear Clarence's dauntless brother."

"And so," said the prince, quitting the stall with Warwick, while the
girls still lingered behind, "so Saladin hath no son! Wherefore? Can
you mate him with no bride?"

"Faith," answered the earl, "the females of his race sleep in yonder
dell, their burial-place, and the proud beast disdains all meaner
loves. Nay, were it not so, to continue the breed, if adulterated,
were but to mar it."

"You care little for the legend, meseems."

"Pardieu! at times, yes, over much; but in sober moments I think that
the brave man who does his duty lacks no wizard prophecy to fulfil his
doom; and whether in prayer or in death, in fortune or defeat, his
soul goes straight to God!"

"Umph," said Richard, musingly; and there was a pause. "Warwick,"
resumed the prince, "doubtless, even on your return to London, the
queen's enmity and her mother's will not cease. Clarence loves
Isabel, but Clarence knows not how to persuade the king and rule the
king's womankind. Thou knowest how I have stood aloof from all the
factions of the court. Unhappily I go to the Borders, and can but
slightly serve thee. But--"(he stopped short, and sighed heavily).