The Lord of Fear was tall, but he stooped and kept his head sunk between his shoulders. His bristling locks were prematurely white; his hollow eye did not remain still for an instant, but wandered restlessly to every corner; his sunken countenance, pale and colourless as wax, was disfigured by green streaks; his purple lips, continually quivering with nervous excitement, endeavoured in vain to assume an air of bravery; his fidgety fingers wandered to his cuirass, his sword, his dagger, as if to assure themselves that they would not be wanting if needed. The family of Fear, perspiration bathed his face, in spite of the fever that consumed him. His teeth chattered, and every moment a fit of shivering set all his defensive armour rattling under his dingy cloak; and every time that she heard this sound of steel, Dame Coward gave a terrible jump, and gazed round her upon all sides for the cause of her alarm. She was seated on the very edge of her throne, with her two hands resting on the elbows, so that she might at once jump up and run away. Like her daughters, she was dressed in a material the colour of which was constantly changing. A hare reposed on her knees. “This little page would be nice to eat,” whispered Trepidation to her father; “don’t be too severe upon him.” “There you are again with your absurdities! you have no force of character,” interposed Alarm. “If one ever listened to you, Heaven knows what would become of us.” “We must, at any price,” said Dastardy, “get rid of this young vixen, and I feel sure that by attacking her in the rear----” “I am afraid our last hour is come,” said Apprehension, bursting into tears. “You are always the same,” said Alarm. “You would never tire of throwing the handle after the hatchet.” “Why don’t you speak, sister?” said Dastardy to Timidity, who was hiding herself. “Let us hear your opinion.” “I--but--I don’t know,” stammered Timidity. “You never know anything,” answered Dastardy, giving her sister a pinch that nearly brought the blood, and then running away. Poor Timidity gave a shriek that made all the family jump again. The Lord of Fear sprang back ten paces, and drew his dagger. Dame Coward jumped up and let fall her hare, which immediately hid itself under her petticoat. [Illustration: 235] “Be silent, idiots, and come round me again; that foolish Timidity has given me a fright. The first who speaks shall be put in the dark cupboard.” After this awful threat came the silence of death. “Well, and what would you do here, little one?” said the Lord of Fear, in the interval between two shivering fits. “By the Shrine of St. Landri,” said Mitaine, clapping her hands on her hips, “it must be admitted you have a strange way of receiving your guests. I have shrunk from nothing in order that I might see you, and my perseverance deserves a better return.” “You do not answer my question. Why do you come here?” “To drive you away.”