“Of a truth, good thane, thy drink is marvellous good! marvellous good is thy drink! Better have not I tasted since we rifled old Ambrose, the hermit of Torney Low! Very rich was the old rogue: he had store of gold and of silver, and an admirable cellar withal. Right merry we were and jovial; and, for the hoary man, we made him sit by the board, and chaunt a merry stave. That did I; for truly my fellow thief had some quirks of conscience. Health to the old man! May his bags and his cellar be replenished before next Whitsuntide! What care I for abbot and friar, mitre and cowl! I roam through glade and greenwood, over hill, and rock, and stream, free as the hawk, free as the passing wind. Marry, I had forgot how I have linked myself to a wife! Kiss me, fair Elfrida! I love thee very much, Elfrida; but thou knowest, when war calleth us away, we soldiers leave ye like a whistle. How dost thou, old father-in-law, how dost thou? Of a verity, thy face is as black as a November cloud, and that spear by thy side is wondrous sharp: it is well I have a Milan corselet. Mark ye my Milan corselet, father and bride? The zecchins that were paid for it! It hath not borne blow yet. Certainly I like not blows; but the lace of my helmet is snapped in twain. Thy son, most noble Leofwyn, could explain unto thee the manner of it. Surely it was a mighty blow, and a perilous, given with a strong arm and a right goodwill. Launcelot shook like an aspen leaf. Howbeit, noble Saxon, thy drink is marvellous good; it maketh a man valorous, and doth as it were put to flight the whimsies, and the visions, and the phantasies of the brain. Fill up, valiant Leofwyn! Plague on them that flinch! Mine harness is much soiled for a wedding garment, but I shall wear a new doublet to-morrow. A blight upon the brambles in the coppice! How now, good father-in-law, why dost thou not speak? Thy face is as round as the bowl, and as silent as the roasted crab that is floating within it. Fill up! Off with care! Shall I not be merry, when steel, and nobility, and a wife are put upon my shoulders?” “My lord groweth complimentary,” said Elfrida, hardly able to speak for laughter. “I do feel afraid that the air of Kennet Hold, and the drink it affords, have somewhat unsettled his brains!” “Beautiful Elfrida,” said the bridegroom, “true it is that the brains of Sir Reginald had a terrible knock this day, and thy brother knows whence it came; but we will forget these quarrelsome topics, and give up the evening to merriment. My brains are as firm as thine own. Marry, the wine is marvellous good!” He was sinking gradually into intoxication. “I marvel wherefore Lothaire delayeth his coming,” said Leofwyn. “Truly,” replied Elfrida, “it were well to conclude the farce without him. I am weary of this mummery.” “Mar-vel-lous good!” repeated the Norman, and closed his eyes. “Girl,” said Leofwyn, “thou speakest foolishly; until my son’s return we will keep up the disguise.”