"Off, ofif, dear falcon!" cried Matilda.
And at these words the bird rose skyward like an arrow, till the eye could no longer follow it; then for some moments, poised in the air and motionless, she sought with her piercing eye her quarry; there, afar ofif, flew the snipe, and more swiftly than a stone from on high, swooped the falcon on the poor victim, which she soon held in her sharp talons.
"There, Messire de Valois!" cried Matilda, exultingly; "now you may see that a Flemish ladcan break a hawk! only look, how skilfully the faithful bird brings in her quarry!"
And the last words were hardly over her lips, before the falcon was again upon her hand with the snipe in its talons.
"May I have the honor to receive the game from your fair hand?" asked Messire de Valois.
But at this request the young lady's countenance became somewhat troubled; she looked imploringly on the knight, and said:
"I hope, Messire de Valois, that you will not take it amiss; but I had already promised my first quarry to my brother Adolf, who is standing yonder beside my father."
"Your brother William, mean you not, lady?"
"No; our brother Adolf of Nieuwland. He is so kind, so obliging to me; he helps me in training my hawks, teaches me songs and tales; and plays to me on the harp; we all in truth heartily love him."
While Matilda was thus speaking, Charles de Valois had been regarding her with the closest attention; he soon, however, convinced himself that friendship was the only feeling which the young knight had excited in her bosom.
"If so," said the prince, with a smile, "he indeed well merits this favor. Do not, I pray you, let me detain you a moment longer."
And immediately, without heeding the presence of the other knights, she called as loud as she could:
"Adolf! Adolf!" and joyous as a child, she held up the snipe for him to see.
At her call the young knight hastened up to her.
"Here, Adolf," added she, "is your reward for the pretty tale you last taught me."
He bowed respectfully, and received the snipe with pleasure. The others regarded him half with envy, half with curiosity; and more than one sought to decipher a tender secret upon his countenance; but all such speculations were in vain. Suddenly a loud exclamation called every one's attention to the sport.
"Quick! Messire de Bethune!" cried the chief falconer; "loose your hawk's hood and cast her off; yonder runs a hare."
A moment later, and the bird was hovering above the clouds, and then swooped perpendicularly upon the victim as it fled. It was a strange sight to see. The hawk had struck its claws deep in the hare's back as it ran, and so held fast to it, while both together rushed onward like the wind. But this did not last long; for the hawk, loosening one claw, seized hold with it of a tree, and with the other held her prey so fast, that, in spite of its desperate struggling, there was no escape for it. And now several dogs were uncoupled; these hurrying up, received the hare from the hawk, which now, as if exulting in its victory, hovered aloft over the dogs and the huntsmen, exhibiting its joy in the most various sweeps and turns.
"Messire de Bethune," cried De Valois, "that is a hawk that knows her business! A finer gerfalcon I never saw!"
"You say no more of her than she deserves, Messire," replied Robert; "in a moment you shall look at her claws."
With these words he lifted up his lure, on catching sight of which the hawk immediately returned to her master's fist.
"Look here," proceeded Robert, showing the bird to De Valois; "see what beautiful fair-colored plumage, what a snow-white breast, and what deep-blue claws."
"Yes, indeed, Messire Robert," answered De Valois, "that is in very truth a bird that might hold comparison with an eagle. But it seems to me that she is bleeding."
Robert hastily inspected his hawk's legs, and cried impatiently:
"Falconer, hither, quick! my bird is hurt; the poor thing has tried its claws too much. Let her be well seen to; you, Stephen, keep her under your own eye; I would not lose her for more than I care to tell."
And he gave the wounded hawk to Stephen, his trainer, who all but wept at the accident; for the hawks he had broken and tended were to him as his very children.
After the chief persons present had flown their hawks, the sport became more general. For two hours the party continued the chase after various kinds of birds of high flight, such as ducks, herons, and cranes, without, at the same time, sparing those of low flight, among which were partridges, field fares, and curlews. By this time it was noon; and now, at the cheerful summons of the horns, the whole party came together again from every side, and proceeded on their way back to Wynandael as fast as a moderate pace could carry them.
On the way, Charles de Valois resumed his conversation with the old Count Guy. The latter, much as he mistrusted the result of the proposed expedition into France, was yet, out of love for his children, disposed to undertake it; and finally, on the repeated insistence of the French prince, resolved on casting himself at King Philip's feet, with all the nobles who remained faithful to him, in the hope that so humiliating a homage might move the conqueror to compassion. The absence of Queen Joanna, flattered him with a ray of hope that he should not find her husband inexorable.
Since their morning's quarrel Robert de Bethune and De Chatillon had not met again; they purposely avoided each other, and neither of them said another
