Not a cheer greeted Bernard as he reached the summit of the hill and was in the midst of the people. He looked about with his pale, inanimate eyes, and saw sulky faces and folded arms. "Hey!" said he to his interpreter. "Yon fellow--he is the Archpriest, I doubt not. Bid him come to me." "I am at your service," said Pabo in Norman-French, which he had acquired. "That is well; hold my stirrup whilst I alight." Pabo hesitated a moment, then complied. "The guest," said he, "must be honored." But an angry murmur passed through the throng of bystanders. "You have a churlish set of parishioners," said Bernard, alighting. "They must be taught good manners. Go, fetch me a seat." Pabo went to the presbytery, and returned with a stool, that he placed where indicated by the bishop. The people looked at each other with undisguised dissatisfaction. They did not approve of their chief holding the stirrup, or carrying a stool for this foreign intruder. Their isolation in the midst of the mountains, their immunity from war and ravage, had made them tenacious of their liberties and proud, resistful to innovation, and resolute in the maintenance of their dignity and that of their chief. But a certain amount of concession was due to hospitality, and so construed these acts could alone be tolerated. Nevertheless their tempers were chafed, and there was no graciousness in the demeanor of the bishop to allay suspicion, while the contemptuous looks of his Norman attendants were calculated to exasperate. "It is well," said Bernard, signing imperiously to Pabo to draw near. "It is well that you can speak French." "I have been in Brittany. I have visited Nantes and Rennes. I can speak your language after a fashion." "'Tis well. I am among jabbering jackdaws, and cannot comprehend a word of their jargon. I do not desire to distort my mouth in the attempt to acquire it." "Then would it not have been as well had you remained in Normandy or England?" "I have other work to do than to study your tongue," said Bernard with a laugh. "I am sent here by my august master, the fine clerk, the great scholar, the puissant prince, to bring order where is confusion." "The aspect of this valley bespeaks confusion," interrupted Pabo, with a curl of the lip. "Do not break in on me with unmannered words," said the bishop. "I am an apostle of morality where reigns mere license." "License, my Sieur? I know my people; I have lived among them from childhood. They are not perfect. They may not be saints, but I cannot admit that a stranger who is newly come among us, who cannot understand a word that we speak, is justified in thus condemning us." "We shall see that presently," exclaimed Bernard, "when we come to particulars. I have heard concerning you. My lord and master, the Beauclerk Henry, has his eyes and ears open. Ye are a dissolute set, ye do not observe the Seven Degrees." Then aside to his chaplain: "It is seven, not four, I think?" "I pray you explain," said Pabo.