“Malvoisin,” said the Knight, “I thank thee⁠—thou hast touched the string at which my heart most readily thrills!⁠—Come of it what may, recreant shall never be added to the name of Bois-Guilbert. Would to God, Richard, or any of his vaunting minions of England , would appear in these lists! But they will be empty⁠—no one will risk to break a lance for the innocent, the forlorn.”

“The better for thee, if it prove so,” said the Preceptor; “if no champion appears, it is not by thy means that this unlucky damsel shall die, but by the doom of the Grand Master, with whom rests all the blame, and who will count that blame for praise and commendation.”

“True,” said Bois-Guilbert; “if no champion appears, I am but a part of the pageant, sitting indeed on horseback in the lists, but having no part in what is to follow.”

“None whatever,” said Malvoisin; “no more than the armed image of Saint George when it makes part of a procession.”