The shrieks of the _belles d’amour_ were altogether spontaneous, for they did not imitate their ancestresses, who in the tourneys of old encouraged their champions by their cries to do battle for their renown to the last; the modern dames and damsels confined themselves to the bestowal of expressive looks and sweet smiles. Perhaps these contained as much encouragement as the more noisy demonstrations of approval, although the Prince de Ligne, to judge from his remarks, would have fain seen the fair ones revert to the ancient customs, ‘What delights me above all in these revivals of chivalric practices is the image of valour and skill inspired by love,’ he said. ‘Unquestionably, our ancestors understood the love-passion better than we do. They introduced it into everything--into their games and into their combats. The love-passion in those days must have been a grand and noble feeling; it was the twin-sister of glory. With us, love is only a matter of pleasure. Instead of making it, as of old, an incentive to the dangers of war or to the splendid perils of the lists, our poets and novelists have relegated it to a cottage. But “love in a cottage,” as has been aptly said, “soon becomes a cottage without love.” The modern taste for tournaments,’ he went on, ‘is no new thing. I did not see the jousts organised by the great Catherine at St. Petersburg in the first years of her reign, but I have often been told the particulars. Their most remarkable feature was the active participation of women. They competed as well as the men. The celebrated Marshal Münnich[70] was principal umpire. The favourite, Gregory Orloff, and his brother Alexis were at the heads of the quadrilles. The first prize for skill and grace was won by the handsome Comtesse Bouturlin, the daughter of the great Chancellor Woronzoff. When handing it to her, the old marshal decided that she should distribute the rest of the wreaths to the dames and knights. It really seemed as if Catherine had exhausted all kinds of pleasure and splendour, but there is, after all, something left.’ While the prince was talking the four-and-twenty knights, this time actively assisted by their pages and squires, executed several difficult evolutions, attesting their skill and perfect horsemanship, and the whole was wound up by a kind of equine set-dance, in which the quadrupeds disputed the palm with their riders. Then the knights made the round of the arena, saluted the sovereigns and their own dames, and disappeared in the same order as they had come.