------------------------------------------------------------------------ One evening about this time, Levina came up with the news that Abraham of Norwich wished to see the Damoiselle de Malpas. Her words were civil enough, but her tone never was when she spoke to Beatrice; and on this occasion she put an emphasis on the name, which was manifestly not intended to be flattering. Beatrice, however, took no notice of it. Indeed, she was too glad to see Abraham to feel an inclination to quarrel with the person who announced his arrival in any terms whatever. She threw aside her work in haste, and ran down into the hall. "My Belasez, light of mine eyes!" said the old man fervently, as he folded her in his arms and blessed her. "Ah, there is not much light for the old pedlar's eyes now!" "Dost thou miss me, my father?" "Miss thee! Ah, my darling, how little thou knowest. The sun has gone down, and the heavens are covered with clouds." "Was my mother very angry after I went away?" It was not natural to speak of Licorice by any other name. "Don't mention it, Belasez! She beat me with the broom, until Delecresse interfered and pulled her off. Then she spat at me, and cursed me in the name of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and all the twelve tribes of Israel. She threw dirt at my beard, child." The last expression, as Beatrice well knew, was an Oriental metaphor. "Is she satisfied now?" "Satisfied! What dost thou mean by satisfied? She gives me all the sitten [Note 1] porridge. That is not very satisfying, for one can't eat much of it. I break my fast with Moss, when I can." Beatrice could not help laughing. "My poor father! I wish I could just fly in every morning, to make the porridge for thee." "Blessed be the memory of the Twelve Patriarchs! Child, thou wouldst scarcely escape with whole bones. If Licorice hated Christians before, she hates them tenfold now.--Dost thou think, Belasez, that the Lady lacks anything to-day? I have one of the sweetest pieces of pale blue Cyprus that ever was woven, and some exquisite gold Damascene stuffs as well." "I am sure, Father, she will like to look at them, and I have little doubt she will buy." "How are matters going with thee, child? Has thy father got leave to abandon his vows?" "He hopes to receive it in a few days." "Well, well! Matters were better managed in Israel. Our vows were always terminable. And Nazarites did not shut themselves up as if other men were not to be touched, like unclean beasts. We always washed ourselves, too. There is an old monk at Norwich, that scents the street whenever he goes up it: and not with otto of roses. I turn up a side lane when I see him coming. Even the Saracens are better than that. I never knew any but Christians who thought soap and water came from Satan." [Note 2.] "Well, we all wash ourselves here," said Beatrice, laughing, "unless it be Father Warner; I will not answer for him."