the least motion towards respectful, or even civil, salutation, he
seemed determined to show him how little respect he was disposed
to pay to his displeased looks. He took his purse from his chamberlain.

"Here, pretty one," he said, "I give thee one gold piece for the
song thou hast sung me, another for the nuts I have stolen from
thee, and a third for the kiss thou art about to give me. For know,
my pretty one, that when fair lips, and thine for fault of better
may be called so, make sweet music for my pleasure, I am sworn to
St. Valentine to press them to mine."

"My song is recompensed nobly," said Louise, shrinking back; "my
nuts are sold to a good market; farther traffic, my lord, were
neither befitting you nor beseeming me."

"What! you coy it, my nymph of the highway?" said the Prince,
contemptuously. "Know damsel, that one asks you a grace who is
unused to denial."

"It is the Prince of Scotland--the Duke of Rothsay," said the
courtiers around, to the terrified Louise, pressing forward the
trembling young woman; "you must not thwart his humor."

"But I cannot reach your lordship," she said, timidly, "you sit so
high on horseback."

"If I must alight," said Rothsay, "there shall be the heavier
penalty. What does the wench tremble for? Place thy foot on the toe
of my boot, give me hold of thy hand. Gallantly done!" He kissed
her as she stood thus suspended in the air, perched upon his foot