Soldiers were leaning on their swords and eagerly discussing the fortunes of the day; and round and about Edward's royal tent a dense crowd had gathered, out of curiosity, it was said--and Paul heard the words--to see what manner of reception would be met at the monarch's hands by the youthful Edward, called "Prince," who had been brought into the lines by Sir Richard Crofts.
The proclamation respecting him was widely known throughout the camp, and it was said on all hands that the life of the prince would be safe; but whether he would share his father's captivity or be banished the kingdom with his French mother were points no one could answer.
And Paul rode silently and swiftly by, glad that no one heeded him or challenged him to give an account of himself.
Dismounting at last as he reached the outskirts of the crowd, and turning his horse loose to find its own master if it could, Paul was about to push his way into the eager knot of spectators, when a hand was laid upon his arm; and turning suddenly, he found himself confronted by a delicate page boy, whose white face and dilated eyes seemed to bespeak the extreme of emotion and distress.

Before he had time to speak or to ask a question, the page addressed him; and as soon as the voice smote upon his ears Paul started and turned even paler than he had been; for he had heard those musical tones before, and in the fair page before him he recognized, to his horror and dismay, the gentle Lady Anne--young Edward's bride--here, alone and unprotected, in the heart of the foe's camp.
She saw that she was recognized, and laid her hand upon her lips in token of silence.

Paul choked back the words that were upon his tongue, and looked at her in mute amaze.
"I could not keep away," she whispered, "when they told me all was lost and he had not returned.

It was the only way.

No one has heeded me in the tumult and strife.