"Yes, it was. If you had not aimed at the beaver,[*] which you know well enough is the weakest part of the whole armour, I should not have got that splinter in my cheek." [*] The visor. "But," said Ralph, taken aback by this novel ground of accusation, "you could have aimed at mine; and, besides, the beaver would never have come open, had it been tightly clasped." "That’s all as may be! but I knew you had never done anything of the kind before, so I hit you where there was least danger; and in return for my good nature, you took a cowardly advantage of me." Ralph coloured up. "Bowerman, I have told you I am grieved you are hurt--if I could do anything to help you, I would; but, because you are wounded, you have no right to say such unjust and untrue things." "There, that’s just like your mean, lily-livered nature. Here I lie, unable to get up and punish you, all through your own base fault, and then you come in when no one is here, and tell me I tell lies!" Ralph felt his temper rising, but he kept as calm as he could. "You know, Bowerman, you are not just. But as you are suffering, I will not get angry. I can do nothing for you, then?" "Ay, marry can you, and that speedily--get out of this room!" At this moment Lady Trenchard entered. "Ah, Master Lisle, that is right courteous of you, and as one of gentle birth should do, to come and visit your discomfited comrade. I marvelled you had not come afore. But I heard you were out with the Lord Captain, and so I told Master Bowerman." Ralph felt a little uncomfortable. He did not deserve these excuses, for he had forgotten all about Bowerman. Lady Trenchard went on. "Tell us now what sport you had. ’Twill cheer us up, and be as good as a tale for your comrade. ’Twill be kind in him, will it not, Master Bowerman?" But the wounded page only tossed on his couch and uttered a sound, half groan, half smothered exclamation of furious rage. "Ah, poor lad! he suffers much. I fear me these are febrile signs. ’Twill be well to have the worthy and pious Sir Simon Halbard to bleed him. He is something of a leech, and was infirmarer once, I heard, at Quarr Abbey; but thy tale will solace him, and take away his thoughts from the pain of the wound." Ralph longed to get away, but he was too polite to refuse to do what Lady Trenchard asked him. He began--determining to make the narrative as brief as possible--to tell the chief events of the afternoon. As he told of the Breton knight being stuck in the mud, a grunt of satisfaction proceeded from Bowerman. "Ah! thou seest, Master Lisle. I told thee thy tale would solace him, and help to drive away his pain," said Lady Trenchard complacently. When Ralph came to the nuns, and told how they had so willingly brought refreshment for Yolande, of whom, by the way, he scarcely spoke at all, Lady Trenchard remarked,--