“Noble demoiselle,” said he, as he took leave of De Moreville’s daughter, “I once said that when I left the castle I should carry with me one pleasant memory; and now that I have the prospect of freedom before me, beshrew me if I do not deem it dearly purchased at the cost of a departure from the place which your presence consecrates in my heart. But, farewell! May the saints watch over you, and may we meet in more peaceful days and on a happier occasion!” “Amen!” said the Norman maiden, in a soft whisper, as Oliver chivalrously carried her soft hand to his lips, and the tear from her eye alighted on his hand. “May God so order it.” Alas! alas! for the vanity of human wishes! It was neither on a peaceful day nor a happy occasion that Oliver Icingla and Beatrix de Moreville were to meet again. CHAPTER XXXIII WARRIORS IN DISGUISE On the evening of the 1st of June, the day preceding that on which Louis of France rode into London to receive the homage of the chief citizens and barons, two persons--one of them a tall, strong man, riding a big, high horse, and the other a stripling, mounted on a white “haquenée”--reached Southwark. They reined up before the sign of the White Hart, an hostelry afterwards celebrated as the headquarters of Jack Cade during his memorable insurrection. “Who may you be, and whence come ye?” asked the landlord, who, seeing that the times were troubled, was cautious as to the persons he received under his roof. “I am a yeoman of Kent,” answered the elder of the horsemen, frankly, “and this youngling is my nephew, and we have this day ridden from my homestead near Foot’s Cray.” The explanation proved satisfactory--at all events, it sufficed for the occasion--and the travellers stabled their steeds, and, having entered the White Hart, were soon doing justice to such good cheer as the tenement afforded. The yeoman, meanwhile, talked freely enough with all who addressed him. The stripling, however, sat silent and seemingly abashed, as it was natural a young peasant should sit in a scene to which he was unaccustomed, and among people who were strangers. Only once, when his companion was holding forth on the subject of flocks and herds, he opened his mouth to utter an enthusiastic exclamation in praise of a brindled bull that had recently been baited in his native village; and having done so, and, apparently, also satisfied his hunger and thirst, he, in very rustic language, proposed a visit to the “bear-gardens” hard by the hostelry.