‘This is too much!’ said she. ‘How far has the Earl of Arran’s loyalty and good conduct been so pre-eminent that he can dare to claim this proud distinction? By the laws of chivalry every lady has the right to her own choice, and here is mine.’ The Queen pointed to the nearest horseman as she spoke. He was richly dressed as an amazon, and his glowing complexion and regular features would have done no discredit even to one of those female warriors. She had selected him at random as a proper rebuke to Arran’s insane presumption, but, like many another act of her life, it was as untoward as it was hasty. Chastelâr, for it was none other, sprang from his horse, and knelt in acknowledgment at the Queen’s feet, laying his lance down at the same time before her in an attitude expressive of humility and adoration. ‘To the death!’ exclaimed the poet, literally kissing the hem of the Queen’s garment ere he sprang once more into the saddle and forced his horse in a series of managed bounds to the farther extremity of the enclosure. One of the maids-of-honour looked disappointed and distressed. Mary Hamilton would fain have selected the Frenchman for her champion during the day, a distinction which would probably make him her partner also in the ball at night. As the ladies passed on, the Queen’s half-brothers, both habited as amazons, approached Her Majesty, dragging between them, with shouts and laughter, a lad of some sixteen summers, whose fair, beardless face was indeed blushing like a girl’s. ‘Choose him, madam!’ exclaimed the merry lords, in a breath, while the younger, with a comical affectation of womanly reserve, spread his gilded buckler before the lad’s crimson cheeks. ‘George Douglas has never lifted spear before; he is indeed a redoubtable champion for a queen.’ Tears of shame and vexation started to the boy’s eyes, yet he looked pleadingly at his sovereign, as if with a confused hope that the great ambition of his life might be realised. Mary was always gentle and considerate. She smiled on him encouragingly. ‘It is mettle that makes the man-at-arms,’ said she. ‘I would have chosen you, indeed, young sir, had these merry gossips of yours brought you to me sooner. Never mind, you shall ride to-day for Mary Hamilton.’ The young eyes glistened with pride and happiness; the young heart swelled. Those few kind words had riveted it for ever to the cause of Queen Mary.