Part 4 (1/2)

”She fulfils every condition.”

”Who told her?”

”That most consummate of fools, the Mistletoe,” said the Grand Marshal.

”What did Sir G.o.dfrey do upon that?” inquired Hubert.

”He locked up his girl and chained the Governess to a rock, where she has remained in deadly terror ever since, but kept fat for me to devour her. Me!” and Sir Francis permitted himself to smile, though not very broadly.

”How if Sir Dragon had found the maid chained instead of the ancient widow?” Hubert said, venturing to tread a little nearer to familiarity on the strength of the amus.e.m.e.nt which played across the Grand Master's face.

”Ah, Hubert boy,” he replied, ”I see it is not in the Spring only, but in Autumn and Summer and Winter as well, that thy fancy turns to thoughts of love. Did the calendar year but contain a fifth season, in that also wouldst thou be making honey-dew faces at somebody.”

But young Hubert only grinned, and closed his flas.h.i.+ng eyes a little, in satisfaction at the character which had been given him.

”Time presses,” Sir Francis said. ”By noon we shall receive an important visit. There has been a great sensation at Wantley. The country folk are aroused; the farmers have discovered that the secret of our legend has been revealed to Miss Elaine. Not one of the clowns would have dared reveal it himself, but all rejoice in the bottom of their hearts that she knows it, and chooses to risk battle with the Dragon. Their honest Saxon minds perceive the thrift of such an arrangement. Therefore there is general anxiety and disturbance to know if Sir G.o.dfrey will permit the conflict. The loss of his Malvoisie tried him sorely,--but he remains a father.”

”That's kind in him,” said Hubert.

Sir Francis turned a cold eye on Hubert. ”As befits a clean-blooded man,” he proceeded, ”I have risen at the dawn and left you wine-pots in your thick sleep. From the wood's edge over by Wantley I've watched the Baron come eagerly to an upper window in his white night-s.h.i.+ft.

And when he looks out on Mistletoe and sees she is not devoured, he bursts into a rage that can be plainly seen from a distance. These six mornings I laughed so loud at this spectacle, that I almost feared discovery. Next, the Baron visits his daughter, only to find her food untasted and herself silent. I fear she is less of a fool than the rest. But now his paternal heart smites him, and he has let her out.

Also the Governess is free.”

”Such a girl as that would not flinch from meeting our Dragon,” said Hubert; ”aye, or from seeking him.”

”She must never meet the Dragon,” Sir Francis declared. ”What could I do shut up in the crocodile, and she with a sword, of course?”

They were gloomily silent.

”I could not devour her properly as a dragon should. Nor could I carry her away,” pursued Sir Francis.

Here Hubert, who had gone to the window, returned hastily, exclaiming, ”They are coming!”

”Who are coming?” asked several.

”The Baron, his daughter, the Governess, and all Wantley at their backs, to ask our pious advice,” said the Grand Marshal. ”Quick, into your gowns, one and all! Be monks outside, though you stay men underneath.” For a while the hall was filled with jostling gray figures entangled in the thick folds of the gowns, into which the arms, legs, and heads had been thrust regardless of direction; the armour clashed invisible underneath as the hot and choked members of the Guild plunged about like wild animals sewed into sacks, in their struggles to reappear in decent monastic attire. The winged crocodile was kicked into the closet, after it were hurled the thunder machine and the lightning torch, and after them clattered the cups and the silver rundlet. Barely had Hubert turned the key, when knocking at the far-off gate was heard.

”Go down quickly, Hubert,” said the Grand Marshal, ”and lead them all here.”

Presently the procession of laity, gravely escorted by Hubert, began to file into the now barren-looking room, while the monks stood with hands folded, and sang loudly what sounded to the uninstructed ears of each listener like a Latin hymn.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER V

In which the Hero makes his first Appearance & is at Once locked up.