"Kneel down!" cried the Duke; "kneel down! Would to God that I were a Bayard for thy sake!--In the name of God, St. Michael and St. George, I dub thee knight;" and drawing his sword he struck him on the collar with the blade, adding with a smile, in which melancholy was blended with gaiety, "Perchance this may be the last chivalrous knighthood conferred in France. Indeed, as matters go, I think it will be: but if it should, I can but say that it never was won more nobly." The young Count rose with sparkling eyes. The memory of the chivalrous ages was not yet obliterated by dust and lichens; the fire of a more enthusiastic epoch was not yet quite extinct; and he felt as if what had passed gave him greater strength to go through what was to come. The Duke, however, relaxing soon into his former manner, made him a sign to proceed; and Charles of Montsoreau went on to detail the complete defeat and dispersion of the different bodies of reiters. He then began to hesitate again: but Guise was determined to hear all, and said, "But your brother; where did you find your brother? Be frank with me, Logères." Thus pressed, the young Count went on to say, that he did not again meet with his brother till he found him in the market-place at La Ferté. "My brother," he continued, "having been driven by the party that pursued him beyond the carriage, and judging that I was coming up with a superior force, imagined that Mademoiselle de Clairvaut and her attendants had fallen under my protection: but finding that such was not the case, he mounted his horse again, and proceeded to seek for her during the greater part of the night, while I did the same in another direction." He was then hurrying on as fast as possible to speak of the following morning, but the Duke interrupted him, demanding, "There was a sharp dispute in the market-place, I think; was there not, Monsieur de Logères? Pray let me hear the particulars." But Charles of Montsoreau, driven to the point, answered boldly and at once, "It was a dispute between two brothers, my Lord; in regard to which none but God and their own consciences can judge. You will therefore pardon me if I keep that which is private to my private bosom." Guise gazed at him for a long--a very long time, with eyes full of deep feeling, and then replied, "By Heaven! you are one of the most extraordinary young men I ever met with. I know the whole, Monsieur de Logères; and the words there spoken let me into the secrets of your bosom which I wished to know. I now understand how to deal with you; and while I do my best to secure your happiness, trust to the Duke of Guise to avoid, as far as possible, any thing that is painful to you in the course. But go on; let me hear the rest." "If you know all, my Lord," said Charles of Montsoreau, a good deal affected by the Duke's kindness, "will you not spare me the telling of that which must be painful to me?"