"Because," said Dyram, in a cool conversation tone, "there is a certain bridge in this city, over the river Lys, where you may have seen, as you pass along, a foolish figure cast in bronze, of two men, one going to cut off the other's head apparently. They represent a son who offered to execute his father, when, as old legends say--but I do not believe them--the sword flew to splinters in the parricide's hand. However, that has not much to do with the matter, as I see you perceive; but the fact is, that bridge is called the Bridge of the Decapitation--not, as many men fancy, on account of those two statues, but because it is there the citizens of this good town have a pious custom of putting to death knights and nobles, who have had the misfortune to become murderers. Now you must not suppose me so slow witted a man as to come to visit Sir Simeon of Roydon under such peculiar circumstances, without letting those persons know where I am, who may inquire after me if I do not reappear. I am always ready for such cases, noble knight, and to say truth, care little when I go out of the world, so that I have a companion by the way; and that, in this instance, at least, I have secured. 'Tis therefore, I say, you will abandon such vain thoughts." Sir Simeon of Roydon gazed at him for a moment, with the expression of a fiend; but suddenly his countenance changed, and he fell into deep thought. What strifes there are in that eternal battle-field, the human heart! What strifes have there not been therein, since the first fell passion entered into man's breast with the words of the serpent tempter--ay, with the words of the tempter; for man had fallen before he ate! But perhaps there is none more frequent, than the struggle between passion and policy in the bosom of the vehement and wily,--none more terrible either; for whichever gains the ascendancy, ruins the country round. There was something in Dyram's demeanour that suited well with the character of him to whom he spoke. Opposed to him, it first excited wrath; but yet a voice whispered that such a man might be made most useful to his purposes, if he could but be won; and as the knight's anger abated, the question became, how could he be gained? In regard to Ella Brune, Roydon was aware of much that had taken place, but not of all; otherwise his course would have been soon decided. By this time he had learned that Ella had journeyed from England in the train of Richard of Woodville; he knew that Dyram had stayed behind--not dismissed by his master as the man had insinuated, but left in charge of his baggage; and Simeon of Roydon suspected, judging of others by himself, that he had been left in charge of Ella, also, by her paramour. But of Dyram's love for her he had no hint, though there might have arisen in his mind a vague surmise that such attachment did exist, from the fact which brother Paul had discovered and communicated, that Dyram visited her once at least each day.