proves an eventful one, for, after some unpleasant misunderstandings with different persons whom he meets, he at last comes upon a groupe of peasants standing near some chesnut trees, on one of which hangs a man, whose limbs are still quivering with the convulsions of death. Without heeding the significant gesture of a by-stander who points to the rude impression of a fleur de lis on the bark, he springs into the tree, and cuts down the corpse, whose heavy fall on the ground announces that life was completely gone. While busied in endeavouring to restore animation, Quentin is surrounded by a band of gipsies, whose wild and savage appearance is most picturesquely described; and their lamentations and active efforts to bring back the extinguished spark of existence, shew the victim to have been one of their tribe. They are soon interrupted in their business by the appearance of the Provost and his guard, who succeed in seizing on a few prisoners, and among them, the luckless Scotsman, whose protestations of innocence are quite in vain; the halter is round his neck, and the hangmen, Trois Echelles and Petit André are urging him forward to the tree, when one of the Archer-guard, finding him to be a Scotsman, interferes; and shortly after, Ludovic Lesly and a party of his friends, ride up and rescue him from the disappointed cruelty of Tristan and his associates. Quentin is enrolled in the royal guard as his uncle's esquire, and, on his first appearance on duty at court, is recognised by Louis, who requires to know the year, day, hour, and minute of his birth.' From these important data, the King's astrologer calculates the youth's horoscope, and ascertains a mysterious connexion between his fortunes and those of the monarch, which induces the latter to employ him immediately on confidential service. While at the little inn in the village of Plessis, the darkbrowed damsel' had awakened a considerable interest in Durward's mind, and a subsequent glimpse of a 'white, round 'arm' at a turret window, and the sound of a delicious voice singing to the lute an ancient roundelay, had deepened the impression, and stimulated his curiosity. He now finds that the fair tenant of the auberge, is no less a personage than Isabelle, Countess of Croye, who, under the guidance of her relative the Countess Hameline, had fled from the court of Burgundy to avoid having an ill-suited husband forced upon her by the Duke, A haughty defiance from the latter is delivered to Louis by the Count de Crevecoeur, the ambassador of Charles; and the former, anxious to conceal his harbourage of the fair fugitives, sends them away, under an escort commanded by Quentin, who has thus the exquisite delight of attending on his lady-love,' through a perilous jour

ney. Perilous, indeed, it proves to be; for the King, as usual, was playing a double game. Ostensibly he was consigning the countesses to the honourable guardianship of the PrinceBishop of Liege, while he had made private arrangements for intercepting them on their route, and giving them up to the tender mercies of William de la Marck, the Boar of Ardennes; a monster of cruelty and ugliness, whose services were to be secured by the hand and estates of the lovely Isabelle. This design was to have been effected by the intervention of a gipsy guide, but it is effectually defeated by the shrewdness, activity, and courage of the young Scot. He first unhorses the Duke of Orleans, and engages, with doubtful success, the celebrated Dunois, who had reluctantly engaged himself to assist the former in his rash attempt to carry off Isabelle, with whose charms the Prince had been irresistibly stricken, though under positive engagements to the younger daughter of Louis. Quentin afterwards detects the treacherous machinations of Hayraddin Maugrabin, the gipsy, and by an alteration in the route, conveys his charge in safety to the court of Liege. The guide and his monture are thus described.

The low size, and wild, shaggy, untrained state of the animal, reminded Quentin of the mountain breed of horses in his own country, but this was much more finely limbed, and, with the same appearance of hardness, was more rapid in its movements. The head, particularly, which, in the Scottish poney, is often lumpish and heavy, was small and well-placed in the neck of this animal, with thin jaws, full sparkling eyes, and expanded nostrils.

The rider was even more singular in his appearance than the horse which he rode, though that was extremely unlike the horses of France. Although he managed his palfrey with great dexterity, he sat with his feet in broad stirrups, something resembling a shovel, so short, that his knees were well-nigh as high as the pommel of his saddle. His dress was a red turban of small size, in which he wore a sullied plume, secured by a clasp of silver; his tunic, which was shaped like those of the Estradiots, a sort of troops whom the Venetians at that time levied in the provinces on the eastern side of their gulf, was green in colour, and tawdrily laced with gold. He wore very wide drawers or trowsers of white, though none of the cleanest, which gathered beneath the knee, and his swarthy legs were quite bare, unless for the complicated laces which bound a pair of sandals on his feet; he had no spurs, the edge of his large stirrups being so sharp as to serve to goad the horse in a very severe manner. In a crimson sash this singular horseman wore a dagger on the right side, and on the left a short, crooked Moorish sword, and by a tarnished baldrick over the shoulder hung the horn which announced his approach. He had a swarthy and sun-burnt visage, with a thin beard, and piercing dark eyes, a well-formed mouth and nose, and other features which might have been pronounced handsome, but for the black

elf-locks which hung around his face, and the air of wildness and emaciation, which rather seemed to indicate a savage, than a civilized man.'

This strange companion seemed to be much interested by the appearance of the ladies, and not only turned his head as far back as he could, to peer at them,' but, with a monkeylike facility of twisting and distorting the natural positions of his body, screwed his whole person round on the saddle' so as to command a more complete view. Not much pleased at this rude inspection, Durward rode up to interpose; and we shall cite the most characteristic passages of the dialogue which followed.

"Methinks, friend, you will prove but a blind guide, if you look at the tail of your horse, rather than his ears."

"And if I were actually blind," answered the Bohemian, "I would guide you through any county in this realm of France, or in those adjoining to it."

"Yet you are no Frenchman born," said the Scot.

"I am not," answered the guide.

"What countryman, then, are you?" demanded Quentin.

""I am of no country," answered the guide.

"How! of no country?" repeated the Scot.

6.66 No," answered the Bohemian, “ of none. I am a Zingaro, a Bohemian, an Egyptian, or whatever the Europeans, in their different languages, may choose to call our people; but I have no country." "Are you a Christian?" asked the Scotchman.

'The Bohemian shook his head.

Dog," said Quentin, (for there was little toleration in the spirit of Catholicism in those days,) "doest thou worship Mahouri?"

"Are you a pagan, then, or what are you?"

"I have no religion.".

......

Durward started back..... He recovered from his astonishment to ask where his guide usually dwelt.

"Wherever I chance to be for the time," replied the Bohemian, "I have no home."

"How do you guard your property?"

"Excepting the clothes which I wear, and the horse I ride on, I have no property."

"Who is your leader, and commands you?"

"The Father of our tribe-if I choose to obey him," said the guide-" otherwise I have no commander."

"You are then," said the wondering querist, "destitute of all that other men are combined by ;-you have no law, no leader, no settled means of subsistence, no house or home. You have, may Heaven compassionate you, no country-and, may Heaven enlighten and forgive you, you have no God! What is it that remains to you, deprived of government, domestic happiness, and religion?"

"I have liberty," said the Bohemian-" I crouch to no oneobey no one-respect no one.-I go where I will-live as I canand die when my day comes."

"Yours is a wandering race, unknown to the nations of Europe Whence do they derive their origin?"

6.66

I may not tell you," answered the Bohemian.

"Are you not sprung from those tribes of Israel which were carried into captivity beyond the great river Euphrates?" said Quentin.....

"Had we been so," answered the Bohemian, "we had followed their faith, and practised their rites."

...

"Thou speakest too well for one who hath lived always in thy filthy horde," said the Scot.

"I have learned some of the knowledge of this land," said Hayraddin." When I was a little boy, our tribe was chased by the hunters after human flesh. An arrow went through my mother's head, and she died. I was entangled in the blanket on her shoulders, and was taken by the pursuers. A priest begged me from the Provost's archers, and trained me up in Frankish learning for two or three years."

"How came you to part with him?" demanded Durward.

"

"I stole money from him-even the God which he worshipped," answered Hayraddin, with perfect composure; "he detected me, and beat me. -I stabbed him with my knife, fled to the woods, and was again united to my people."

"Wretch," said Durward, "did you murder your benefactor?". "What had he to do to burden me with his benefits? The Zingaro boy was no house-bred cur to dog the heels of his master, and crouch beneath his blows, for scraps of food. He was the imprisoned wolf-whelp, which at the first opportunity broke his chain, rended his master, and returned to his wilderness."

To an inquiry whether their claims to a knowledge of futurity were just, Hayraddin answered.

"We pretend to it....and it is with justice."

"How can it be that so high a gift is bestowed on so abject a race?" said Quentin.

"Can I tell you?.... Yes, I may indeed, but it is when you shall explain to me why the dog can trace the footsteps of a man, while man, the nobler animal, hath no power to trace those of the dog. These powers which seem to you so wonderful, are instinctive in our

race."

De la Marck, disappointed of his prey, determines, with the aid of the disaffected Liegeois, to surprise the fortified palace of the bishop. The night assault, with the scenes of horror that attended it, are described with all the distinctness and

powerful effect peculiar to this Writer. Hayraddin has a deep part in this transaction; but, from motives of gratitude to Quentin-we should previously have intimated that the body which the latter had cut down from the tree, at the commencement of his adventures, was that of Zamet, the brother of Hayraddin-he determines on saving him and the Countess Hameline, who, though a somewhat faded beauty, has fallen in love with the youth. By an easy equivoque, Quentin supposes his prize to be the Lady Isabelle, and, on discovering his error, hastens back to the castle in search of her, leaving Hameline to the care of the Zingaro. With some hazard and difficulty, he succeeds, but finds it impossible to carry her off without the aid of Pavillon, a rich Syndic of Liege, and one of the leaders of the insurrection. The gates, however, are secured by the orders of the Boar of. Ardennes, and the whole party, with poor Isabelle, muffled in a cloak, and nearly insensible with terror, are compelled to enter the great hall of the palace, where that ruffian is revelling with his men, after the exertion of the assault. The vivid description of this scene is far too long for our limits, but a few sections will sufficiently exhibit the vigour with which it is portrayed.

The soldiers and officers sat around the table, intermixed with the men of Liege, some of them of the very lowest description; among whom Nikkel Blok, the butcher, placed near De la Marck himself, was distinguished by his tucked up sleeves, which displayed arms smeared to the elbows with blood, as was the cleaver which lay on the table before him. The soldiers wore, most of them, their beards long and grisly, in imitation of their leader; had their hair plaited and turned upwards, in the manner that might best improve the natural ferocity of their appearance; and intoxicated, as many of them seemed to be, partly with the sense of triumph, and partly with the long libations of wine which they had been quaffing, presented a spectacle at once hideous and disgusting.'

The preparations for the feast had been as disorderly as the quality of the company. The whole of the bishop's plate, nay, even that belonging to the Church-for the Boar of Ardennes regarded not the imputation of sacrilege-were mingled with black jacks, or huge tankards made of leather, and drinking-horns of the most ordinary description.

his

Amidst the wild licence assumed by the soldiers of De la Marck, one who was excluded from the table (a Lanzknecht, remarkable for courage and for his daring behaviour during the storm of the evening) had impudently snatched up a large silver goblet, and carried it off, declaring it should atone for his loss of the share of the feast. The leader laughed till his sides shook, at a jest so congenial to the character of the company; but when another, less renowned, it