Dark eyed and haired, with a creamy ivory skin, and faultless form and feature, the fair Catherine would have been unmistakable, save that as Henry hurried forward, the lights glancing on his jaded face, matted hair, and soaked dress, the first to spring forward to meet him was a handsome young man, who wrung his hand, crying, 'Ah, Harry, Harry, then 'tis too true!' while the lady made scarcely a step forwards: no shade of colour tinged her delicate cheek; and though she did not resist his fervent embrace, it was with a sort of recoil, and all she was heard to say was, '_Eh, Messire, vos bottes sont crottees_!' 'You know all, Kate?' he asked, still holding her hand, and looking afraid of inflicting a blow. 'The battle? Is it then so great a disaster?' and, seeing his amazed glance, 'The poor Messire de Clarence! it was pity of him; he was a handsome prince.' 'Ah, sweet, he held thee dear,' said Henry, catching at the crumb of sympathy. 'But yes,' said Catherine, evidently perplexed by the strength of his feeling, and repeating, 'He was a _beau sieur courtois_. But surely it will not give the Armagnacs the advantage?' 'With Heaven's aid, no! But how fares it with poor Madge--his wife, I mean?' 'She is away to her estates. She went this morn, and wished to have taken with her the Demoiselle de Beaufort; but I forbade that--I could not be left without one lady of the blood.' 'Alack, Joan--' and Henry was turning, but Catherine interrupted him. 'You have not spoken to Madame of Hainault, nor to the Duke of Orleans. Nay, you are in no guise to speak to any one,' she added, looking with repugnance at the splashes of mud that reached even to his waist. 'I will don a fresh doublet, sweetheart,' said Henry, more rebuked than seemed fitting, 'and be ready to sup anon.' 'Supper! We supped long ago.' 'That may be; but we have ridden long since we snatched our meal, that I might be with thee the sooner, my Kate.' 'That was not well in you, my Lord, to come in thus dishevelled, steaming with wet--not like a king. You will be sick, my Lord.' The little word of solicitude recalled his sweet tender smile of gratitude. No fear, _ma belle_; sickness dares not touch me.' 'Then,' said the Queen, 'you will be served in your chamber, and we will finish our game.' Henry turned submissively away; but Bedford tarried an instant to say, 'Fair sister, he is sore distressed. It would comfort him to have you with him. He has longed for you.' Catherine opened her beautiful brown eyes in a stare of surprise and reproof at the infraction of the rules of ceremony which she had brought with her. John of Bedford had never seemed to her either _beau_ or _courtois_, and she looked unutterable things, to which he replied by an elevation of his marked eyebrows.