Stephen gave a sort of laugh at the precaution, and shook himself loose. It was still an hour to the time of meeting, and the Ave-bell was ringing. A church door stood open, and for the first time since he had been at Gravelines he felt that there would be the calm he needed to adjust the conflict of his spirits, and comprehend the new situation, or rather the recurrence to the old one. He seemed to have recovered his former self, and to be able to perceive that things might go on as before, and his heart really leapt at finding he might return to the sight of Dennet and Ambrose and all he loved. His wishes were really that way; and Fulford’s allurements had become very shadowy when he made his way to the Seven Stars, whose vine-covered window allowed many loud voices and fumes of beer and wine to escape into the summer evening air. The room was perhaps cleaner than an English one would have been, but it was reeking with heat and odours, and the forest-bred youth was unwilling to enter, but Fulford and two or three Badgers greeted him noisily and called on him to partake of the supper they had ready prepared. “No, sir knight, I thank you,” said Stephen. “I am bound for my quarters, I came but to thank you for your goodness to me, and to bid you farewell.” “And how as to thy pledge to join us, young man?” demanded Fulford sternly. “I gave no pledge,” said Stephen. “I said I would consider of it.” “Faint-hearted! ha! ha!” and the English Badgers translated the word to the Germans, and set them shouting with derision. “I am not faint-hearted,” said Stephen; “but I will not break mine oath to my master.” “And thine oath to me? Ha!” said Fulford. “I sware you no oath, I gave you no word,” said Stephen. “Ha! Thou darest give me the lie, base prentice. Take that!” And therewith he struck Stephen a crushing blow on the head, which felled him to the ground. The host and all the company, used to pot-house quarrels, and perhaps playing into his hands, took little heed; Stephen was dragged insensible into another room, and there the Badgers began hastily to divest him of his prentice’s gown, and draw his arms into a buff coat. Fulford had really been struck with his bravery, and knew besides that his skill in the armourer’s craft would be valuable, so that it had been determined beforehand that he should—by fair means or foul—leave the Seven Stars a Badger. “By all the powers of hell, you have struck too hard, sir. He is sped,” said Marden anxiously. “Ass! tut!” said Fulford. “Only enough to daze him till he be safe in our quarters—and for that the sooner the better. Here, call Anton to take his heels. We’ll get him forth now as a fellow of our own.” “Hark! What’s that?” “Gentlemen,” said the host hurrying in, “here be some of the gentlemen of the English Cardinal, calling for a nephew of one of them, who they say is in this house.”