The midday meal was spread in the large hall of the Captain’s apartments. Sir William Lisle and his fair daughter had arrived. Gaily Yolande was chatting in the large, deep, bay window at the upper end of the hall, amid a group of young men, conspicuous among whom were the strongly-marked features, bullet head, and broad chest of Sir Amand de la Roche Guemené. Beside him, but topping him by some inches, although he was more than ten years his junior, stood the strong, active figure and boyish, honest face of Ralph Lisle, gazing at Yolande with rapturous admiration, but saying never a word, listening to all she said, and to all that was said to her, with simple enjoyment. No thought of selfish jealousy crossed his mind. All men must admire so lovely a girl--what harm in that? Did not he admire her too? would not he have willingly suffered anything for her? would not he be her dog to fetch and carry, do her slightest wish, be her devoted slave, and ask for nothing more than to be near her? No greater privilege could he have than to do her behests. The boy paid her the most absolute homage of his whole soul and body. It never occurred to him to ask for anything in return. He did not know he wanted anything more than to be allowed to be always near her, adore her, minister to her slightest whims. Whatever so lovely a being did, was sure to be right. To question the acts of so glorious a beauty, was like doubting divinity. Ralph was under the glamour of the most potent spell that ever worked on a pure and generous nature. To give utterly to the object of his worship, was to him the simplest thing. He would have given his last farthing to help a poor beggar; what would he not give to her, who was in his eyes the noblest, loveliest, purest thing in creation? Only would she want anything? There was the pain. What could he give her that she could need? Had she not everything?--homage, wealth, youth, beauty? "And so, my fair cousin, I hear thou hast done right knightly this forenoon," said Yolande, addressing him at last, for after the first greeting he had stood aside to let the more vivacious and older Breton knights pay their respects to his cousin. As Yolande spoke, she glanced at his large build, powerful chest, and tall figure, and then she let her eyes drop sideways on the smaller proportions of the Breton knight who stood beside him. She noticed the breadth of shoulders, bull neck, and length of arm of this latter, and thoughtfully said, without paying any attention to what Ralph blurted out,-- "And so, Sir Amand, you have proclaimed a joust. ’Twas well done of you; and all we poor damoiselles of the island owe you many thanks. But I fear me we have no knights now here will do us poor ladies justice. Alas that my stepbrother is not here!" "Surely, fair lady, thou wilt let me be thy knight?" said the Breton gentleman. "I could not have a fairer queen for whom to lay lance in rest."