'Amply!" exclaimed the youth; "but not by the honor you have conferred, or the rich lands of Sauve-though both were boons worthy an empress to bestow!"

"How then?" demanded the duchess, smiling.

"By the confidence you reposed in me," he said—“ an unknown, friendless boy-by the kind words which rest engraven on my heart for ever! If, gracious lady, I value the honors you have conferred, it is that they may enable me to render service in your cause!"

Eleanora had too many weighty reasons not to shrink for an instant from the promise of her hand which she had given to Henry Plantagenet, whose claims to the crown of England, with her assistance, were certain of success; still, she could not endure the thought of Roland's remaining to witness the nuptials, which prudence demanded should be celebrated as soon as possible. She determined, therefore, to remove him from her court. "And now, sir knight," she said, "that you have been admitted into the order of chivalry, remember that you are bound by its vows to succor all damsels in distress.'

"I trust I shall not forget it, madame !"

"We nothing doubt it! and, in proof that we do not, it is our intention to send you with a herald and fitting escort to the chateau of our late host, the Count of Blois. The chancellor will prepare your letters of credence as our envoy."

"I will dare him to the death!" exclaimed the young manwho hoped to find in the encounter with so renowned a warrior as Count Thibaut, a cure for his hopeless passion, in the grave.

"Not so," said the duchess, kindly; "you will demand in our name the release of our attendants, who, we doubt not, by this time are heartily tired of the hospitality of the Count of Blois." "Should he refuse?" said the youth.

"In that case," continued Eleanora, " you will at once proceed to Paris on a secret mission which it is our intention to intrust you with, and demand their release at the hands of the count's suzerain, Louis VII., King of France."

"Louis," observed the chancellor, "may not feel disposed to

part with them, if Count Thibaut of Blois has delivered the captives into his hands."

"Then, my lords," replied the duchess, haughtily, "we must raise the banner of our duchy, and the war-cry of our house— 'St. George.' We doubt not but we shall find willing hearts to follow it."

A shout of enthusiasm burst from the younger nobles, who cared little for the occupations of peace, and hated Louis for his treatment of their duchess in Paris and Palestine.

The

Here, par parenthèse, it may be as well to observe that the war-cry, "St. George"-now the rallying word of England-at the period of which we write, was peculiar to Aquitaine. English sovereigns adopted it in virtue of the marriage of Henry II. with the subject of our present memoir, and have retained it ever since.

There is very little doubt that, had the Duchess of Aquitaine seriously intended a war with France, her nobility would have seconded her views with heart and arms. Louis was detested in the south, where Eleanora reigned over a country, maritime, rich, and prosperous. The divorced queen of Louis VII. was a far more powerful sovereign than the bigoted king.

As soon as the court was ended, Roland was conducted to the cabinet of his lady, where he received the final instructions, and a liberal supply to enable him to appear bravely both at Blois and Paris.

"My errand accomplished, when, gracious lady, may I return?" he demanded.

Eleanora reflected for an instant.

"Not till you receive a summons under my hand and seal,” she replied; "many important circumstances may arise to render it necessary for me to have an agent upon whose fidelity I can rely in Paris. Remember," she added, with one of her bewitching smiles, "that I place implicit confidence in you."

Roland laid his hand upon his heart, and bowed.

"You must promise me," she continued, "that no inducement shall lead you from Paris till you receive my instructions."

"I will swear it," replied the boy, with enthusiasm; “you are my sovereign lady—the ruler of my life and destiny; I live but to obey your wishes-they are laws to your faithful knight."

"Prove yourself my knight," she replied, "and your reward shall be greater than you imagine. Eleanora of Aquitaine has not an ungrateful heart, and neither lacks the means nor the inclination to recompense those who serve her faithfully, however high their ambition may soar or their desires point."

"However high!" repeated the entranced youth, gazing upon her with a look which sent the blood into her cheek; "those words shall be my leading-star through life!"

At this moment a page entered with a packet, which he placed in the hands of the duchess, who waited, however, till she had dismissed her messenger, before breaking the seal.

"It is time that he was gone!" she murmured, as the youth left the cabinet; "for I felt unable to chide his presumption as I ought. O woman! woman!" she added, "how weak and defenceless when the heart is assailed!"

With these words, she broke the silken string, which, after the fashion of the day, encircled the letter she had just received: it was from the Duke of Normandy, and announced his speedy arrival in Bordeaux, to claim her promised hand; and concluded with those passionate assurances of love which the credulous heart is always too anxious to believe: so true is it that we deceive ourselves more frequently than we are deceived by others.

The intelligence of the arrival of Henry drove all consideration -and perhaps incipient passion-for Roland, from her thoughts. The new-made knight was permitted to depart, without a second interview with his mistress, on his dangerous mission to Blois and Paris. Poor boy! he left the gay city of the south full of joy and hope. Little did he think that, ere he returned, the prize which his mad ambition dreamed of, would have been won by another.

Henry of Normandy arrived a few days after his letter, and was received by the Duchess of Aquitaine with the honors due

rather to his hopes than actual rank. Great preparations were made in Bordeaux for the celebration of their marriage.

About six weeks after the divorce had been pronounced, the bridal procession left the palace on the way to the cathedral. Henry at this time was only twenty years of age, Eleanora thirty-two-a disparity which afterwards led to much misery between them. Just as the train reached the open space opposite the church, a herald, whose tabard was embroidered with the golden fleur-de-lis of France, stepped from the crowd.

"What means this interruption?" demanded the impatient Henry.

The duchess smiled scornfully.

"Pardon me, sire duke,” replied the herald, in a tone of confidence-for he knew that, however disagreeable the duty he had to perform, his office rendered him inviolable-" pardon me that I interrupt you at such a moment; but I must speak with you." Anon, good fellow, anon."

"Now."

Henry bit his lips and frowned ominously, as he attempted to pursue his way.

"Although the lips which speak are those of Peronet of Paris, his words are those of the king of France, addressed to his vassal, the Duke of Normandy. Therefore," continued the herald, I command him to hear me !"

The crowd began to murmur.

"Louis VII.," continued the speaker, “by me, forbids the union of his vassal, Henry, Duke of Normandy and Anjou, with Eleanora, Duchess of Aquitaine, on pain of lese-majesty. Bear witness all that I have performed my duty. And pardon me, noble duke and duchess," he said, addressing the bride and bridegroom, "if it has proved an ungracious one."

"You have borne me the message of your master," exclaimed Henry of Normandy; "now bear mine to Louis. Whilst I admit the homage which I owe him for Normandy and Anjou, I deny his right to dictate whom I shall wed or not!"

The populace began to cheer.

"And tell him further, that with my sword I am ready to maintain the choice I have made!"

The procession passed on to the church; and ere the herald left the city, the marriage of Eleanora and Henry Plantagenet had taken place.

CHAPTER VII.

And there are bright and living rays,
Darting from woman's love-lit eyes,
Which far outshine the diamond's blaze-
Than robe, and crown, a richer prize.

PROPHECY OF THE RED SEER.

IMMEDIATELY after the marriage, Henry, under pretence of presenting to his own subjects their new duchess, started for Normandy-taking care, however, to insure the fidelity of the people of Aquitaine, by leaving garrisons in most of the towns and fortresses, commanded by his own Norman knights and officers: an arrangement viewed with much distaste by the nobles of Aquitaine generally, and which was, there is little doubt, the first cause of his want of popularity in the duchy.

About four months after the marriage, Eleanora gave birth to a son, who was named William in honor of his maternal grandfather. This circumstance explains not only the haste with which the divorce was pressed, but the anxiety of the lady to be married as soon as possible; indeed, it would have been all the better for her character, if the ceremony could have taken place some time earlier.

At this period, the affairs of his mother's friends were in an unfavorable state in England; and, after spending nearly a year with his newly-wedded bride, Henry resolved to visit that country, whose crown he felt to be his own by right. The affection of Eleanora for her youthful husband, led her to supply him both