Chapter 24

Four ruffians seized me yester morn--
Alas! a maiden most forlorn!
They choked my cries with wicked might,
And bound me on a palfrey white. COLERIDGE.

Such adventures as are now only recorded in works of mere fiction,
were not uncommon in the feudal ages, when might was so
universally superior to right; and it followed that those whose
conditions exposed them to frequent violence, were more prompt in
repelling, and more patient in enduring it, than could otherwise
have been expected from their sex and age.

The Lady Eveline felt that she was a prisoner, nor was she devoid
of fears concerning the purposes of this assault; but she suffered
neither her alarm, nor the violence with which she was hurried
along, to deprive her of the power of observing and reflecting.
From the noise of hoofs which now increased around, she concluded
that the greater part of the ruffians by whom she had been seized
had betaken themselves to their horses. This she knew was
consonant to the practice of the Welsh marauders, who, although
the small size and slightness of their nags made them totally
unfit for service in battle, availed themselves of their activity
and sureness of foot to transport them with the necessary celerity
to and from the scenes of their rapine; ensuring thus a rapid and
unperceived approach, and a secure and speedy retreat. These
animals traversed without difficulty, and beneath the load of a
heavy soldier, the wild mountain paths by which the country was
intersected, and in one of which Lady Eveline Berenger concluded
she was now engaged, from the manner in which her own palfrey,
supported by a man on foot at either rein, seemed now to labour up
some precipice, and anon to descend with still greater risk on the
other side.

At one of those moments, a voice which she had not yet
distinguished addressed her in the Anglo-Norman language, and
asked, with apparent interest, if she sat safely on her saddle,
offering at the same time to have her accoutrements altered at her
pleasure and convenience.

"Insult not my condition with the mention of safety," said
Eveline; "you may well believe that I hold my safety altogether
irreconcilable with these deeds of violence. If I or my vassals
have done injury to any of the _Gymry_, [Footnote: Cymbri, or
Welsh.] let me know, and it shall be amended--If it is ransom
which you desire, name the sum, and I will send an order to treat
for it; but detain me not prisoner, for that can but injure me,
and will avail you nothing."

"The Lady Eveline," answered the voice, still in a tone of
courtesy inconsistent with the violence which she sustained, "will
speedily find that our actions are more rough