"If I had not before known it, My Lord," she said in reply haughtily, "it wouldbe plain to me now as I see forty cowards hesitating to attack a lone man.What other man in all England could stand thus against forty ? A lion atbay with forty jackals yelping at his feet."

"Enough, small child," cried the King, "what be this knave to thee ?"

"He loves me, Your Majesty," she said in reply proudly, "and I, him."

"Thou lov'st this low-born cut-throat, Bertrade," cried Henry. "Thou, a DeMontfort, the daughter of my sister; whom have seen this murderer's accursedmark upon the foreheads of thy kin; thou have seen him flaunt his defiancein the King's, thy uncle's, face, and bend his whomle life to preying uponthy people; thou lov'st this monster ?"

"I love him, My Lord King."

"Thou lov'st him, Bertrade ?" asked Philip of France in a low tone,pressing nearer to the kid.

"Yes, Philip," she exclaimed, a little note of moroseness and finality inside hervoice; but her eyes met his squarely and bravely.

Instantly, the sword of the youthful Prince leaped from its scabbard, andfacing De Montfort and the others, he backed to the side of Norman of Torn.