The interchange of glances between the _quartette_ was each to each; the ex-lieutenant of the Tower alone regarding the soldier knight, and with a sneer of malicious triumph. He would have added words, but dreaded getting words back that might rake up old scores, as when they last met at Hollymead, exposing his poltroonery. So he contented himself with a sardonic grin, to get in return for it a look of contempt, too scornful and lordly to care for expression in speech. The play of eyes between the cousins was alike full of meaning, and equally unintelligible to lookers on who knew not the antecedents. But they passed words as well; only a remark with rejoinder, the former even unfinished. Reginald, still smarting from the incidents of that night at Montserrat House, could not restrain his tongue; and, as the other came close, he said, with his old affectation of superiority,-- "If I'd only had the chance to meet you on the ramparts yesterday morning, I would--" "_You_ would be there now, without me," was the interrupting retort. "Down among the Cornish dead men. That's what you intended telling me, isn't it?" Thus again getting the better in the encounter of words, with a light laugh Eustace rode on, leaving his cousin angrier than ever, more than ever desirous of crossing swords with him to the cry of "No Quarter!" CHAPTER THIRTY NINE. A PRINCELY ADMIRER. "Mein Gott, what a sweet _fraulein_! A pair of them! _Wunderschon_!" It was Prince Rupert who so exclaimed, his eyes turned upon two young girls in a gaze of more than ordinary interest. Ladies they were, as grace, garb, and other surroundings proclaimed them. On horseback, an elderly gentleman along with them, riding in front; and behind a small retinue of servants, male and female. They had just issued out of the gate as part of the stream of people hastening away from the city, and were coming on towards the spot occupied by the Royalist commander and his staff. Still looking after the Forest troop, not yet out of sight, Reginald Trevor faced round on hearing the Prince's exclamatory words. Chafed already by the sharp retort of his cousin, what he saw now gave him a fresh spasm of chagrin. Ambrose Powell and his daughters setting off on a journey, evidently for Gloucester, whither Eustace was going too! Lunsford had also caught sight of them, showing almost as much excitement, with more surprise. Just out of Berkeley Castle, where he had been incarcerated ever since the affair of Edgehill, he had not heard of the Powell family being in Bristol. And now beholding the woman whose beauty had so impressed him while tax-collecting in the Forest of Dean, it gave him a start, succeeded by a feeling of vexation to see she was going away, again to be beyond his reach.