"
"In faith," said Sir Piercie Shafton, "it may be a shrewd temptation,
and perchance the monks may rid themselves of trouble and cumber, by
handing me over the march to Sir John Foster or Lord Hundson, the
English wardens, and so make peace with their vassals and with England
at once. Fairest Molinara, I will for once walk by thy rede, and if
thou dost contrive to extricate me from this vile kennel, I will so
celebrate thy wit and beauty, that the Baker's nymph of Raphael
d'Urbino shall seem but a gipsey in comparison of my Molinara."
"I pray you, then, be silent," said the Miller's daughter; "for if your
speech betrays that you are awake, my scheme fails utterly, and it is
Heaven's mercy and Our Lady's that we are not already overheard and
discovered."
"I am silent," replied the Southron, "even as the starless night--but
yet--if this contrivance of thine should endanger thy safety, fair and
no less kind than fair damsel, it were utterly unworthy of me to
accept it at thy hand."
"Do not think of me," said Mysie, hastily; "I am safe--I will take
thought for myself, if I once saw you out of this dangerous
dwelling--if you would provide yourself with any part of your apparel
or goods, lose no time."
The knight _did_, however, lose some time, ere he could settle in
his own mind what to take and what to abandon of his wardrobe, each
article of which seemed endeared to him by recollection of the feasts
and revels at which it had been exhibited.
Pages:
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484