victory. At his left hand, where the breadth of the streets
permitted, rode Henry Lee, the mayor, uttering no word, unless
appealed to, and then answering but with chilling reverence and dry
monosyllables.

A narrow winding in the streets, which left Warwick and Clarence alone
side by side, gave the former the opportunity he had desired.

"How, prince and son," he said in a hollow whisper, "is it with this
brow of care that thou saddenest our conquest, and enterest the
capital we gain without a blow?"

"By Saint George!" answered Clarence, sullenly, and in the same tone,
"thinkest thou it chafes not the son of Richard of York, after such
toils and bloodshed, to minister to the dethronement of his kin and
the restoration of the foe of his race?"

"Thou shouldst have thought of that before," returned Warwick, but
with sadness and pity in the reproach.

"Ay, before Edward of Lancaster was made my lord and brother,"
retorted Clarence, bitterly.

"Hush!" said the earl, "and calm thy brow. Not thus didst thou speak
at Amboise; either thou wert then less frank or more generous. But
regrets are vain: we have raised the whirlwind, and must rule it."

And with that, in the action of a man who would escape his own
thoughts, Warwick made his black steed demivolte; and the crowd
shouted again the louder at the earl's gallant horsemanship, and