were guests at the castle that day, who had come to meet with the knight of Carogne, and the lady Aline strove to call up somewhat of her wonted dignity as she sat beside her husband at the banquet. Yet looked she rather like one in a dreary dream, as she smiled so piteously at the lily discourse held by her husband and his friends, and took the cup which all had courteously kissed to her health ere they drank from it. The sleeping chamber of the knight and his gentle dame adjoined to a little oratory, where the young and faithful pair were ever wont to kneel beside each other, before they lay down to rest; to kneel beside each other, and to pray in a mild and thankful spirit to their God. When the knight went up that evening to his bed-chamber, he found not his wife there. She was kneeling in her prayer-closet, and he knelt down beside her, and having prayed in silence, he arose. He stood there awhile ere he turned towards his chamber, and gazed upon his wife; but still were her pale hands uplifted, and her lips gently moving in her prayers. The knight lay down, but often did he raise up his head to look for the coming of his wife. She came not, till his voice had oft-times tenderly besought her, and then Aline slowly entered with the lamp in her trembling hand, and placing it on a settle, she knelt down by her husband's side. The knight started as the first sound of his lady's voice broke upon his ear, there was so deep a sorrow in its tone, “Let me kneel here," she said, "I am not wont to kneel but to our blessed Lord, and now I only kneel before Him-beseeching Him to witness to the truth of every word I speak. My husband, do not seek to raise me, take little notice of me with your eyes, let your ears only regard me. Nay, do not touch me yet," she added, as he held forth his arms towards her. "Oh! my beloved, I cannot have the strength to speak if you do. I have need of more than woman's strength of soul, and so you will soon confess. It was but five days since the present time, when I was sitting in my green-wood bower; it was at the quiet even-tide, 66 and I had dismissed my maidens from attending me, that I might indulge in many thoughts; blissful they were, for I thought upon my dear husband, and melancholy withal, because thou wert absent. Thou knowest there is a low wall enclosing the small green-sward court to which my apartments open: although this wall is low on the side next the court, yet it rises high above the moat surrounding the castle, so that I have sat in my bower and walked on that terrace-walk fearless at all hours. The sun was sinking slowly in the sky, and the shadows deepened where they fell; but I heeded nothing, till it seemed to me as if a man's figure rose above the wall; I did not stir, but fixed my eyes earnestly upon the intruder. Once he gazed fearfully about him, and then passed quickly to the place where I sat. I am in danger, I am pursued,' he cried, with a fearful and smothered voice; I must speak to thee alone.' I am alone,' was my reply. I would risk no chance of be ing discovered here,' he said; noble kinswoman, my life is in danger, wilt thou save me? I know the knight of Carogne is absent, but wilt thou refuse me? All this time as he besought me, the squire, Jaques le Grys (for it was he) almost groveled at my feet, and strove to seize my hands as if imploring for his life. I knew not what to do, as, confused with the surprise of his appearance, I stood regarding him. Methought that once his eyes shrank beneath my steady gaze, but instantly he spake with greater energy. What wouldst thou have me to do? Where could I shelter thee?' I said at length to him, scarce knowing what I did say. He caught me by the wrist, and looking me full in the face, muttered with a voice which seemeth yet in my ear, The dungeon:'-he led the way, and trode with stealthy pace, stopping to listen at every step he made-no ear heard us, no eye beheld us." The lady faltered as she spoke, she clung for support to the bed, and bit her nether lip which quivered with the agony of her feelings; then turning away her face farther from the gaze of the knight, she spoke as if every breathing of her voice were torn forcibly from her bo som. At last she declared to him her misery, and at last the husband comprehended her sad words. "There is a tale which thou hast read to me," she said, "the story of a young and gentle lady's woes. A matron she was, and famous in Old Rome. She was like me, a faithful wife, faithful and happy, but not always-you did not chide me when I wept at her sad story." Again the lady paused; and her husband speaking not during her silence, she said, "Thou art waiting for the name of that Roman lady, whose woes resembled mine; knowing her name, you will know my shame too well -Lucrece, the wife of one lord Collatinus." The lady of Carogne said no more, but bowed her face upon her bosom, and one blush of deepest scarlet spread over that face and bosom. Neither did the knight reply to her woful words, but he lay breathless it seemed in the stillness of his wrath; the which when his lady perceived, fearing that a fit or swoon might be upon him, she rose up from her knees with a trembling haste, and bending over the bed gazed upon his face. His eyes were wide open, but he stared upon her like one under the forceful spell of some horrid dream. The sweat-beads started from his brow, and the poor lady wiped them away, her tears falling all the while. She could not, as she passed her hand over his broad forehead, she could not bear to turn from him; and so she stood beside him, with her fingers parting away his thick hair, and sometimes pressing her soft, cold palm upon his burning temples. Soon his chest began to heave violently, and deep long sighs burst from him, and the large tears gushed into his eyes. He rose up, and clasped his poor dishonoured lady to his bosom, who lay there and yielded to the weakness of her womanly anguish. But the force of her grief relieved her, and she arose, and listened to the questions of her husband, replying to them with a calmness that surprised herself. It was break of day ere their conference had finished; and then the poor lady who had resolutely but quietly refused to lie down by her 38 ATHENEUM VOL. 14: husband's side, lay at his feet and slept; yea, slept like an innocent babe on the bosom of its mother. The knight feared to disturb her tranquil slumber; he could not sleep, but never did he hang with more admiring fondness over her lovely countenance, than when he now gazed upon it, and felt himself a heartbroken and dishonoured husband. It was noon ere the lady of Carogne awoke, and though thoughts of agony darted across her mind with the waking of her memory, she struggled in her prayers for the mastery over her wretchedness, and the grace of God prevailed. Her shame was known to her husband, and now she shrank not from the notice of the whole world. Pity and censure were become indifferent to her. To clear his honour she resolved to expose herself to indignity and public disgrace. Secret her wrongs had been, but they had torn her from the husband of her youth; and as she could not in common justice conceal her dishonour from him, she felt it her duty to publish abroad the story of her indignity, and the name of the wretch who had dishonoured her. "Summon together," she said to the knight of Carogne, 66 summon with all haste, my friends and kinsmen, and bear me along with them to the earl of Alençon, your liege lord. Tell to him what I have suffered, and let him call me, if he will, to his presence. Let him confront me with the wretch whom I would gladly never behold again. Then your shall hear that wicked squire humbly confess his guilt, and then shall he entreat the pardon which he deserves not to receive, but which I know that thou wilt grant. The bill of our divorce shall so be given; and another lady of Carogne of spotless chastity and faithful as I have been, shalt thou bring back to this castle. I will henceforth seek no spouse but thy memory, and my hope of heaven; and I will pray for thee till I may meet with thee again in heaven, where there shall be neither marrying nor giving in marriage." The knight of Carogne and the squire Jaques le Grys, were both of the land and household of the earl of Alençon, and the squire was in constant attendance on the earl his lord, and well beloved by him. The knight knew how great an influence the squire had obtained over his lord, and he determined to lose no time in following that part of his lady's counsel which he approved; he therefore set off to the castle of the earl, but he left the lady Aline in the protection of her own kinsmen, whom he had called together at her desire. Accompanied by a few of his own nearest friends, the knight obtained an audience of his lord; but he seemed to speak in vain, when he recited the tale of his wife's dishonour to the earl; so perfect was his affection and confidence in the squire. Jaques, that the earl would give no credence to what he heard He commanded that the lady should herself appear in person to accuse, if she would dare to do so, his beloved squire. As I have before related, the young and tender lady of Carogne, since the night. when she revealed her shame, had shaken off all feeble timidity, and possessed herself through the power of God with a wondrous composure, and dignity of mien and manner. The dishonour which had been done to her body, and the weakness of the mere woman, had been forgotten amid the deep and more solemn feelings which now occupied her soul. She came into the presence of the earl of Alençon, led, but not supported, by her own aged father, and she sat down with the quiet dignity of one who appeared there rather to command than to be questioned and judged. As soon as she had raised her veil from off her fair sad face, the meekness and purity of expression which adorned her loveliness of feature, and the graceful delicacy which dwelt in all her gentle movements, touched the heart of every person who beheld her, so that many wondered within themselves, and believed not that such a pure and delicate lady was in fact a defiled, though an unwilling adulteress, When she was called upon by the earl of Alençon to speak, the lady stood up, and a faint flush came over her face, but passed instantly away. "It is not my own dishonour," she said with a slow clear voice, "which hath brought me hither. Í forgive him for myself, as I hope to be forgiven by my God; but I have a husband whose honour hath worn no stain till now, and for whose sake 1 come forth from the privacy in which I would fain hide myself, and my shame for ever: I come into the presence of men, and under the eye of God, to proclaim myself a pollution to my husband's bed, a disgrace to his house and name, and all through the brutal violence of the squire Jaques le Grys. I accuse him by name as the ravisher of my weak and unwilling person. Here do I stand in the presence of the lord of Alençon and this noble company, to declare the time and manner of the aforesaid shameful deed, and to recount, should it be required, every particular of his most atrocious conduct. Let Jaques le Grys, be called to answer for himself, for I do not see him here," she continued, after she had gazed inquiringly around her. Jaques le Grys to come hither," said the earl of Alençon to one of his attendants. Most unlike a guilty person appeared Jaques le Grys as he entered the hall, bearing himself with cheerful carelessness towards all but the lord of Alençon, and the lady of Carogne: to them he bowed with every expression of courteous respect; and then stood modestly but manfully before the earl, as if waiting for his commands. No one spoke for some seconds, and when the knight of Carogne was about to break the reigning silence, the squire interrupted him, to ask one who stood next him, for what purpose so many were assembled together, remarking, with a smiling look, that he had but an hour since returned from off a journey, and that no such convocation had been mentioned before his departure. "Thou canst inform me perchance," he said to the knight of Carogne; "I think thou wert about to speak, and I must entreat thy pardon for my preventing thee. Now I do bethink me, thou hast been across the seas, good knight of Carogne, permit me most heartily to welcome thy return. Ah, it may be to celebrate thy coming, that our noble lord hath called together all this goodly company. It shames me to appear so late to bid thee welcome-Fair lady of Carogne, I must turn to thee," "Silence, silence, I command, loose caitiff," shouted the furious knight as he strided to the centre of the hall, his face burning and his eyes flashing with rage. "My lord of Alençon, I demand your interference to stop at once this gentle squire's parleying. I will tell the young gentleman why we have assembled here. I will tell him of my wife's dishonour and her husband's vengeance; yes, tell him of the time which he hath so conveniently forgotten." Silence was again commanded, and by the earl of Alençon himself, who gravely rebuked the intemperate warmth of the knight; and then called upon the lady of Carogne to bring forward her accusation against the squire Jaques le Grys. At the first appearance of her ravisher, the poor lady had felt as if the sickly chills of death were creeping through her frame; an oppressive languor seemed to bear down beneath it every faculty of her mind. All motionless and silent she sate, and she had not a wish to attempt the concealment of her feelings, for their flow seemed frozen within her; but when the shameless squire turned to her, and addressed her by her name, every power and hope of farther exertion seemed to desert her, and she felt almost as if she were in fact the guilty one, sinking under the weight of the conviction which had overtaken her. Her husband's violence aroused her; and as her self-possession returned, she smiled within herself at her own weakness. With a look of fearless composure she raised her eyes, and pushed back her hair from her brow, and the true eloquence of truth and virtue spake in her words. But the squire was not to be confounded; by turns he affected to be surprised, indignant, nay amused by the strangeness of the accusation brought against him. With apparent attention he then listened to the details which the lady was obliged to give : he listened but a short time, for at last he seemed unable to restrain himself. "This must proceed no farther," he said solemnly. "My lord," he added, "I beseech you to interfere. I should treat this charge with the con tempt which it deserves, were my own character alone concerned; but the relation in which I stand to yourself, the office which I hold near your person, call upon me to come forward and to challenge the strictest inquiry, as to this most valorous adventure which is charged upon me. My lord of Alençon, there is a question I must beg to ask of thee. Canst thou recal the day on which thy noble cousin and his bride were entertained in state within this castle ?" The earl of Alençon thought within himself, and named the fourth of April. "And on that day," replied the squire, "I was at the castle of Argentueil? So we are told. Let me ask again-Who was in attendance on thy person on the fourth of April ?" The earl answered without hesitation. "Thou wert, Jaket, most certainly; and now that I remember me, thou wert at my side during the whole of that day, saving for the space, I should think, of three hours. Was not this the case? About three hours?" "It was, my lord," replied the squire Jaket. "Account then, for the way in which those three hours were employed, and we must be satisfied." The squire coloured deeply as he bowed, and then entreated to be excused replying to that question; but he begged to remark, that the distance of the earl's castle from that of Argentueil was above three and twenty miles. He begged to know if his entrance to the castle of the knight had been perceived by any persons; if by any of the servants, who must, he thought, have seen him during some part of his sojourn at Argentueil. He had been seen by no one but the lady herself; and there were no witnesses to confirm her assertion. The lady of Carogne now calmly reminded the earl of the question he had put to the squire. In what manner those three hours had been employed? Deeper still was the colour that mounted over the countenance of Jaques le Grys. He drew near to the earl-his master, and murmured a few words in an under tone. The earl paused awhile, and then said, " Yes, it will be the surer way of discovering the truth. One intrigue may perchance confound the other." He commanded three of the noblest gentlemen present to go to the lodging of Berina Lunaro, and to conduct her immediately to his presence. They returned within ten minutes, accompanied by the wanton Italian, and she confessed with an assumed reluctance, that three hours, on the fourth day of April, had been passed by the squire Jaques le Grys in her society. Would it have been supposed, that with little farther investigation, with no other evidence than that given by Berina Lunaro, an Italian courtezan, the earl of Alençon declared his squire innocent of the crime whereof he was accused? He said to the lady, that she did but dream it; wherefore that he would maintain his squire. The lady of Carogne had not spoken while the Italian remained in the hall. She waited till the earl had delivered all his judgment, and then she rose with the same self-possession which had before distinguished her, and turning to the company, spake to this intent: "It was for justice that I came hither, and now I will depart, for I may seek justice here no longer. My lord of Alençon, listen to these my words, for I would speak thus plainly even in thy presence; I have not been justly dealt with, and this your spirit will tell you, if you ask it faithfully. Before I leave you I would call these facts to your remembrance. I have dwelt within your notice since my early youth. My father's name hath ever been revered, and while I lived with him and my own mother, I was unblamed by you, and by my parents' many friends. My honoured father hath come hither leading his child with his own hand. Would he have done thus if I were the loose shameless wretch you take me for? With my husband I have lived happy, and in sweetest confidence of heart; I never have deceived him, and I would not be less honest than heretofore, when I last met him, a dishonoured wife. You know, from what you have heard, as to the secrecy of your false squire's plans, that had I pleased to seem so, I might now have seemed an undefiled wife; he would have kept his secret perchance so closely as he keeps it now. But here I stand, and openly proclaim my shame. Here I renounce my husband and my home; and here I solemnly repeat, that Jaques le Grys, your squire, was indeed the brutal ravisher of this vile body. The time may come when you will give full credence to my words. Methinks it was almost too hard on me, fallen as I am, to call into my presence that bold Italian wanton, and then to hear her as a more faithful witness than myself. This was poor justice, it was unkind, unpitying, to believe that common courtezan before the wife, the honest and devoted wife, of this brave knight your servant.” When the lady had thus spoken, she turned away, and waited not for a reply. Warned she might be by the look of unconcern which still remained upon the earl of Alençon's face. But as she went, she stopped some few times and clung to her old father's arm more closely, and once she bowed her face upon his shoulder, and an hysteric sob was heard; her veil concealed her countenance, and afterwards she betrayed no sign of agitation; but with a firm step, and with much dignity she left, in company with her husband and kinsman, the castle of the earl of Alençon. The knight of Carogne was not to be silenced, although thus dismissed by the earl his master. He well trusted and believed his wife, and so he went to Paris and showed the matter unto the parliament there; and he there appealed Jaques le Grys, who did appear, and answered to his appeal. It is was said that the earl of Alençon was sore displeased at the determined conduct of the brave knight, and oftentimes would he have had him slain, but that the matter was in the parliament. But the knight of Carogne was of great courage, and he persisted that he would maintain his quarrel to the death; and because the lady could make no proof against the Jaques leGrys but by her own words, judgment was given by the parliament, that mortal battle should be done at Paris, between the knight and the squire; it was judged that if the knight of Carogne should be overcome in that battle, and |