While he spoke, there was a vast howling of dogs, and blowing of horns at some distance; and Woodville, trusting to the piqueur's sagacity for the direction the Court would take, waited patiently till the sounds accompanying the _curée_ were over, and then gazed down the avenue. In about ten minutes some horsemen began to appear in the road; and then a splendid party issued forth from one of the side alleys, followed by a confused crowd of men, horses, and dogs. They came forward at an easy pace, and Richard of Woodville inquired of his companion, which was the Duke of Burgundy. "What, do you not know him?" said the man, in some surprise. "Well, keep back, and I will tell you when they are near." The young Englishman, without reply, reined back his horse for a step or two, so as to take up a position beyond the projecting corner of the wood; and, while the piqueur continued gazing down the avenue, still holding his dogs in the leash, Woodville turned a hasty glance behind him, to see if he could discover anything of his page. The boy was nearer than he thought, but was wisely coming round the back of the savannah, where the turf was soft and somewhat moist, so that his approach escaped both the eyes and ears of the royal attendant, till, approaching his master's side, he said something which, though spoken in a low tone, made the man turn round. At the same moment, however, the first two horsemen passed out of the road into the open space; and immediately after, the principal party appeared. At its head, a step before any of the rest, came a man, seemingly past the middle age, with grey hair and a noble presence, but with cheeks channelled and withered, more by sickness and care than years. His eye was peculiarly clear and fine, and not a trace was to be seen therein of that fatal malady which devoured more than one-half of his days. His aspect, indeed, was that of a person of high intellect; and though his shoulders were somewhat bowed, and his seat upon his horse not very firm, there were remains of the great beauty of form and dignity of carriage, which had distinguished the unhappy Charles in earlier days.