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136 fifteen years ago she had been equally eloquent in favour of fifteen years before. Well, memory is a very comfortable thing, usually adapting itself to the prejudices of the present.

Fortunately, the commencement of the games prevented Francesca from being quite overpowered by the envy of beauties that had been. It was a commencement worth the chivalric magnificence of Louis's after-reign—the scene in those gardens! The fine old trees in the distance, so rich in shadow, while the foreground was in broad sunshine—the long green alleys, along which rode an occasional horseman, breathing his courser—the terraces, crowded with the young, the gorgeously arrayed, and the beautiful—the youthful cavaliers, darting at full gallop down the narrow palisade—the burst from the trumpets, that noblest of music, as each competitor dashed at the ring,—altogether formed a pageant in which Amadis of Gaul might have taken a part before the eyes of the peerless Oriana.

As yet none had been successful, and now the three leaders, were all that remained. Their precedence had been determined by lot and the Duc de Candale was the first. He dashed forward—his long lance touched the ring—it trembled; but at that very moment his horse started—he passed,