"I shall make no attempt," Charles Edward replied. "But I am unused to such proceedings as these. And I do not even say whether they are justifiable or not; the disgrace does not affect me, but your master alone." While he was speaking, De Vaudreville continued to bind him, using crimson cord of a similar nature to that which formed the barrier outside, and at last both his legs and arms were securely tied, when the unhappy Prince lost his calmness, and, looking down on De Vaudreville with a glance that has been described as "menacing and terrible," exclaimed: "Have you not enough now?" "Not yet," replied the other, "though it is nearly ended." It was, indeed, nearly ended, since the Prince's body was now so swathed with the cords that it would have been impossible for more to be placed round it or his limbs, and, looking at the duke with still his sad smile upon his face, he said: "I hope, monsieur, no other Englishman will ever be treated thus. They are not made for such a purpose;" after which he asked what was to be done next. "To Vincennes next," replied De Biron, with a low bow. "My horses are fatigued," the Prince said; "they cannot travel so far and back to-night." "Have no fear," the duke answered. "A coach has been secured." And now they prepared to lift the unhappy descendant of a family of kings, the last descendant who ever made a bid or struck a blow for all that his ancestors had lost--since his brother the cardinal, Henry, Duke of York, was a mere shadow of a Stuart--and to carry him to the hired coach that waited without. But Bertie, who had been a furious witness of this insult to him whom, rightly or wrongly, he deemed--in agreement with three fourths of his country people and perhaps one half of the English--to be the rightful heir to the English throne, could not part thus from him. As he saw him tied and bound, there arose before him once more the memory of the bright young chieftain with whom he had embarked at Port St. Lazare, with whom he had landed in Lochaber, and before whom the old Marquis of Tullibardine had unfurled at Glenfinnan his white, blue, and red silk standard, with, on it, the proud and happy motto, "_Tandem Triumphans_." Also before his eyes there rose the progress through Scotland, the joyous welcome at Edinburgh, the victory at Prestonpans, the surrender at Carlisle, the glorious march to and arrival at Derby, with the news which succeeded that arrival, to the effect that the German King was trembling for fear at St. James's, and all London mad with terror. And then Culloden!--that bitter day, when, as Cumberland's butchers hacked and shot the wounded and the dying, Charles urged on the living to avenge their comrades, and was at last forced off the field against his will, his face bespattered with the dirt thrown up by the cannon balls that fell around him. And now to see him thus!