{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_26448/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_26448","id":"gutenberg_26448","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/26448","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Adventure","Category: Humour","Category: Novels","Dragons -- Juvenile fiction","Fairy tales"],"text":"Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive/American Libraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                              THE DRAGON\n                                  OF\n                                WANTLEY\n\n                               HIS TALE\n\n                           _By_ Owen Wister\n\n                  _Illustrations by John Stewardson_\n\n                            SECOND EDITION\n\n                             Philadelphia\n                        J.B.LIPPINCOTT COMPANY\n                                 1895\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: .COPYRIGHT.1892.\n\n.BY.J.B.LIPPINCOTT.COMPANY.\n\nPRINTED.BY.J.B.LIPPINCOTT.COMPANY\n\n.PHILADELPHIA.USA.]\n\n\n\n\n                                  TO\n                    MY ANCIENT PLAYMATES IN APPIAN\n                       WAY CAMBRIDGE THIS LIKELY\n                    STORY IS DEDICATED FOR REASONS\n                       BEST KNOWN TO THEMSELVES\n\n\n\n\n                                Preface\n\n\n    When Betsinda held the Rose\n        And the Ring decked Giglio's finger\n        Thackeray! 'twas sport to linger\n    With thy wise, gay-hearted prose.\n    Books were merry, goodness knows!\n    When Betsinda held the Rose.\n\n    Who but foggy drudglings doze\n        While Rob Gilpin toasts thy witches,\n        While the Ghost waylays thy breeches,\n    Ingoldsby? Such tales as those\n    Exorcised our peevish woes\n    When Betsinda held the Rose.\n\n    Realism, thou specious pose!\n        Haply it is good we met thee;\n        But, passed by, we'll scarce regret thee;\n    For we love the light that glows\n    Where Queen Fancy's pageant goes,\n    And Betsinda holds the Rose.\n\n    Shall we dare it? Then let's close\n        Doors to-night on things statistic,\n        Seek the hearth in circle mystic,\n    Till the conjured fire-light shows\n    Where Youth's bubbling Fountain flows,\n    And Betsinda holds the Rose.\n\n\n\n\n                     PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION\n\n\nWe two--the author and his illustrator--did not know what we had done\nuntil the newspapers told us. But the press has explained it in the\nfollowing poised and consistent criticism:\n\n    \"Too many suggestions of profanity.\"\n          --_Congregationalist_, Boston, 8 Dec. '92.\n\n    \"It ought to be the delight of the nursery.\"\n          --_National Tribune_, Washington, 22 Dec. '92.\n\n    \"Grotesque and horrible.\"\n          --_Zion's Herald_, Boston, 21 Dec. '92.\n\n    \"Some excellent moral lessons.\"\n          --_Citizen_, Brooklyn, 27 Nov. '92.\n\n    \"If it has any lesson to teach, we have been unable to find\n    it.\"\n          --_Independent_, New York, 10 Nov. '92.\n\n    \"The story is a familiar one.\"\n          --_Detroit Free Press_, 28 Nov. '92.\n\n    \"Refreshingly novel.\"\n          --_Cincinnati Commercial Gazette_, 17 Dec. '92.\n\n    \"It is a burlesque.\"\n          --_Atlantic Monthly_, Dec. '92.\n\n    \"All those who love lessons drawn from life will enjoy this\n    book.\"\n          --_Christian Advocate_, Cincinnati, 2 Nov. '92.\n\n    \"The style of this production is difficult to define.\"\n          --_Court Journal_, London, 26 Nov. '92.\n\n    \"One wonders why writer and artist should put so much\n    labor on a production which seems to have so little reason\n    for existence.\"\n          --_Herald and Presbyterian_, Cincinnati.\n\nNow the public knows exactly what sort of book this is, and we cannot\nbe held responsible.\n\n\n\n\n                           TABLE OF CONTENTS\n\n\n                              CHAPTER I.\n                                                                  PAGE\nHow Sir Godfrey came to lose his Temper                            19\n\n                              CHAPTER II.\nHow his Daughter, Miss Elaine, behaved herself in Consequence      35\n\n                             CHAPTER III.\nReveals the Dragon in his Den                                      52\n\n                              CHAPTER IV.\nTells you more about Him than was ever told before to Anybody      62\n\n                              CHAPTER V.\nIn which the Hero makes his First Appearance and is Locked Up\nimmediately                                                        77\n\n                              CHAPTER VI.\nIn which Miss Elaine loses her Heart, and finds Something of the\nGreatest Importance                                                91\n\n                             CHAPTER VII.\nShows what Curious Things you may see, if you don't go to Bed\nwhen you are sent                                                 113\n\n                             CHAPTER VIII.\nContains a Dilemma with two simply egregious Horns                136\n\n                              CHAPTER IX.\nLeaves much Room for guessing about Chapter Ten                   168\n\n                              CHAPTER X.\nThe great White Christmas at Wantley                              187\n\n\n\n\n                         LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n                                                                  Page\n\nOrnamented title                                                    3\nCopyright notice                                                    4\nHead-piece--Preface                                                 7\nHead-piece--Preface to the Second Edition                           9\nHead-piece--Table of Contents                                      11\nHead-piece--List of Illustrations                                  13\nHalf-title to Chapter I                                            17\nHead-piece to Chapter I                                            19\nPopham awaiteth the Result with Dignity                            27\nThe Baron pursueth Whelpdale into the Buttery                      32\nTail-piece to Chapter I                                            33\nHalf-title to Chapter II                                           34\nHead-piece to Chapter II                                           35\nSir Godfrey maketh him ready for the Bath                          39\nSir Godfrey getteth into his Bath                                  41\nMistletoe consulteth the Cooking Book                              43\nElaine maketh an unexpected Remark                                 49\nHalf-title to Chapter III                                          51\nHead-piece to Chapter III                                          52\nHubert sweepeth the Steps                                          55\nHalf-title to Chapter IV                                           61\nHead-piece to Chapter IV                                           62\nHubert looketh out of the Window                                   69\nTail-piece to Chapter IV                                           75\nHalf-title to Chapter V                                            76\nHead-piece to Chapter V                                            77\nGeoffrey replieth with deplorable Flippancy to Father Anselm       84\nTail-piece to Chapter V                                            89\nHalf-title to Chapter VI                                           90\nHead-piece to Chapter VI                                           91\nThe Baron setteth forth his Plan for circumventing the Dragon      96\nGeoffrey tuggeth at the Bars                                      101\nTail-piece to Chapter VI                                          111\nHalf-title to Chapter VII                                         112\nHead-piece to Chapter VII                                         113\nElaine cometh into the Cellar                                     120\nGeoffrey goeth to meet the Dragon                                 128\nHalf-title to Chapter VIII                                        135\nHead-piece to Chapter VIII                                        136\nThe Dragon thinketh to slake his Thirst                           142\nThe Dragon perceiveth Himself to be Entrapped                     148\nA Noise in the Cellar                                        155, 156\nHalf-title to Chapter IX                                          167\nHead-piece to Chapter IX                                          168\nSir Francis decideth to go down again                             176\nBrother Hubert goeth back to Oyster-le-Main for the last Time     181\nTail-piece to Chapter IX                                          185\nHalf-title to Chapter X                                           186\nHead-piece to Chapter X                                           187\nSir Thomas de Brie hastens to accept the Baron's polite\n  Invitation                                                      192\nThe Court-yard                                                    198\nThe Dragon maketh his last Appearance                             203\nL'Envoi                                                           208\n\n[Illustration: QUI NE SAULTE SAULTE SERA]\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER I\n\n               How _Sir Godfrey_ came to lose his Temper\n\n[Illustration: THE BVTLER HIS BOY GODFREY DISSEISIN]\n\n\nThere was something wrong in the cellar at Wantley Manor. Little\nWhelpdale knew it, for he was Buttons, and Buttons always knows what\nis being done with the wine, though he may look as if he did not. And\nold Popham knew it, too. He was Butler, and responsible to Sir Godfrey\nfor all the brandy, and ale, and cider, and mead, and canary, and\nother strong waters there were in the house.\n\nNow, Sir Godfrey Disseisin, fourth Baron of Wantley, and immediate\ntenant by knight-service to His Majesty King John of England, was\nparticular about his dogs, and particular about his horses, and about\nhis only daughter and his boy Roland, and had been very particular\nindeed about his wife, who, I am sorry to say, did not live long. But\nall this was nothing to the fuss he made about his wine. When the\nclaret was not warm enough, or the Moselle wine was not cool enough,\nyou could hear him roaring all over the house; for, though generous in\nheart and a staunch Churchman, he was immoderately choleric. Very\noften, when Sir Godfrey fell into one of his rages at dinner, old\nPopham, standing behind his chair, trembled so violently that his\ncalves would shake loose, thus obliging him to hasten behind the tall\nleathern screen at the head of the banquet-hall and readjust them.\n\nTwice in each year the Baron sailed over to France, where he visited\nthe wine-merchants, and tasted samples of all new vintages,--though\nthey frequently gave him unmentionable aches. Then, when he was\nsatisfied that he had selected the soundest and richest, he returned\nto Wantley Manor, bringing home wooden casks that were as big as\nhay-stacks, and so full they could not gurgle when you tipped them.\nUpon arriving, he sent for Mrs. Mistletoe, the family governess and\n(for economy's sake) housekeeper, who knew how to write,--something\nthe Baron's father and mother had never taught him when he was a\nlittle boy, because they didn't know how themselves, and despised\npeople who did,--and when Mrs. Mistletoe had cut neat pieces of\ncard-board for labels and got ready her goose-quill, Sir Godfrey would\nsay, \"Write, Chateau Lafitte, 1187;\" or, \"Write, Chambertin, 1203.\"\n(Those, you know, were the names and dates of the vintages.) \"Yes, my\nlord,\" Mistletoe always piped up; on which Sir Godfrey would peer over\nher shoulder at the writing, and mutter, \"Hum; yes, that's correct,\"\njust as if he knew how to read, the old humbug! Then Mistletoe, who\nwas a silly girl and had lost her husband early, would go \"Tee-hee,\nSir Godfrey!\" as the gallant gentleman gave her a kiss. Of course,\nthis was not just what he should have done; but he was a widower, you\nmust remember, and besides that, as the years went on this little\nceremony ceased to be kept up. When it was \"Chateau Lafitte, 1187,\"\nkissing Mistletoe was one thing; but when it came to \"Chambertin,\n1203,\" the lady weighed two hundred and twenty-five pounds, and wore a\nwig.\n\nBut, wig and all, Mistletoe had a high position in Wantley Manor. The\nhousehold was conducted on strictly feudal principles. Nobody, except\nthe members of the family, received higher consideration than did the\nold Governess. She and the Chaplain were on a level, socially, and\nthey sat at the same table with the Baron. That drew the line. Old\nPopham the Butler might tell little Whelpdale as often as he pleased\nthat he was just as good as Mistletoe; but he had to pour out\nMistletoe's wine for her, notwithstanding. If she scolded him (which\nshe always did if Sir Godfrey had been scolding her), do you suppose\nhe dared to answer back? Gracious, no! He merely kicked the two\nhead-footmen, Meeson and Welsby, and spoke severely to the nine\nhouse-maids. Meeson and Welsby then made life a painful thing for the\nfive under-footmen and the grooms, while the nine house-maids boxed\nthe ears of Whelpdale the Buttons, and Whelpdale the Buttons punched\nthe scullion's eye. As for the scullion, he was bottom of the list;\nbut he could always relieve his feelings by secretly pulling the tails\nof Sir Godfrey's two tame ravens, whose names were Croak James and\nCroak Elizabeth. I never knew what these birds did at that; but\nsomething, you may be sure. So you see that I was right when I said\nthe household was conducted on strictly feudal principles. The Cook\nhad a special jurisdiction of her own, and everybody was more or less\nafraid of her.\n\nWhenever Sir Godfrey had come home with new wine, and after the labels\nhad been pasted on the casks, then Popham, with Whelpdale beside him,\nhad these carefully set down in the cellar, which was a vast dim room,\nthe ceilings supported by heavy arches; the barrels, bins, kegs,\nhogsheads, tuns, and demijohns of every size and shape standing like\nforests and piled to the ceiling. And now something was wrong there.\n\n\"This 'ere's a hawful succumstence, sir,\" observed Whelpdale the\nButtons to his superior, respectfully.\n\n\"It is, indeed, a himbroglio,\" replied Popham, who had a wide command\nof words, and knew it.\n\nNeither domestic spoke again for some time. They were seated in the\nbuttery. The Butler crossed his right leg over his left, and waved\nthe suspended foot up and down,--something he seldom did unless very\ngrievously perturbed. As for poor little Whelpdale, he mopped his brow\nwith the napkins that were in a basket waiting for the wash.\n\nThen the bell rang.\n\n\"His ludship's study-bell,\" said Popham. \"Don't keep him waiting.\"\n\n\"Hadn't you better apprise his ludship of the facks?\" asked Whelpdale,\nin a weak voice.\n\nPopham made no reply. He arose and briefly kicked Buttons out of the\nbuttery. Then he mounted a chair to listen better. \"He has hentered\nhis ludship's apawtment,\" he remarked, hearing the sound of voices\ncome faintly down the little private staircase that led from Sir\nGodfrey's study to the buttery: the Baron was in the habit of coming\ndown at night for crackers and cheese before he went to bed. Presently\none voice grew much louder than the other. It questioned. There came a\nsort of whining in answer. Then came a terrific stamp on the ceiling\nand a loud \"Go on, sir!\"\n\n\"Now, now, now!\" thought Popham.\n\nDo you want to hear at once, without waiting any longer, what little\nWhelpdale is telling Sir Godfrey? Well, you must know that for the\npast thirteen years, ever since 1190, the neighbourhood had been\nscourged by a terrible Dragon. The monster was covered with scales,\nand had a long tail and huge unnatural wings, beside fearful jaws that\npoured out smoke and flame whenever they opened. He always came at\ndead of night, roaring, bellowing, and sparkling and flaming over the\nhills, and horrid claps of thunder were very likely to attend his\nprogress. Concerning the nature and quality of his roaring, the honest\ncopyholders of Wantley could never agree, although every human being\nhad heard him hundreds of times. Some said it was like a mad bull,\nonly much louder and worse. Old Gaffer Piers the ploughman swore that\nif his tomcat weighed a thousand pounds it would make a noise almost\nas bad as that on summer nights, with the moon at the full and other\ncats handy. But farmer Stiles said, \"Nay, 'tis like none of your bulls\nnor cats. But when I have come home too near the next morning, my\nwife can make me think of this Dragon as soon as ever her mouth be\nopen.\"\n\n[Illustration: Popham awaiteth the Result with Dignity]\n\nThis shows you that there were divers opinions. If you were not afraid\nto look out of the window about midnight, you could see the sky begin\nto look red in the quarter from which he was approaching, just as it\nglares when some distant house is on fire. But you must shut the\nwindow and hide before he came over the hill; for very few that had\nlooked upon the Dragon ever lived to that day twelvemonth. This\nmonster devoured the substance of the tenantry and yeomen. When their\nfields of grain were golden for the harvest, in a single night he cut\nthem down and left their acres blasted by his deadly fire. He ate the\ncows, the sheep, the poultry, and at times even sucked eggs. Many\npious saints had visited the district, but not one had been able by\nhis virtue to expel the Dragon; and the farmers and country folk used\nto repeat a legend that said the Dragon was a punishment for the great\nwickedness of the Baron's ancestor, the original Sir Godfrey\nDisseisin, who, when summoned on the first Crusade to Palestine, had\nentirely refused to go and help his cousin Godfrey de Bouillon wrest\nthe Holy Sepulchre from the Paynim. The Baron's ancestor, when a stout\nyoung lad, had come over with William the Conqueror; and you must know\nthat to have an ancestor who had come over with William the Conqueror\nwas in those old days a much rarer thing than it is now, and any one\nwho could boast of it was held in high esteem by his neighbours, who\nasked him to dinner and left their cards upon him continually. But the\nfirst Sir Godfrey thought one conquest was enough for any man; and in\nreply to his cousin's invitation to try a second, answered in his\nblunt Norman French, \"Nul tiel verte dedans ceot oyle,\" which\ndispleased the Church, and ended forever all relations between the\nfamilies. The Dragon did not come at once, for this gentleman's son,\nthe grandfather of our Sir Godfrey, as soon as he was twenty-one, went\noff to the Holy Land himself, fought very valiantly, and was killed,\nleaving behind him at Wantley an inconsolable little wife and an heir\nsix months old. This somewhat appeased the Pope; but the present Sir\nGodfrey, when asked to accompany King Richard Lion Heart on his\ncampaign against the Infidel, did not avail himself of the opportunity\nto set the family right in the matter of Crusades. This hereditary\nimpiety, which the Pope did not consider at all mended by the Baron's\nmost regular attendance at the parish church on all Sundays, feast\ndays, fast days, high days, low days, saints' days, vigils, and\noctaves, nor by his paying his tithes punctually to Father Anselm,\nAbbot of Oyster-le-Main (a wonderful person, of whom I shall have a\ngreat deal to tell you presently), this impiety, I say, finished the\ngood standing of the House of Wantley. Rome frowned, the earth\ntrembled, and the Dragon came. And (the legend went on to say) this\ncurse would not be removed until a female lineal descendant of the\nfirst Sir Godfrey, a young lady who had never been married, and had\nnever loved anybody except her father and mother and her sisters and\nbrothers, should go out in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve,\nall by herself, and encounter the Dragon single handed.\n\nNow, of course, this is not what little Whelpdale is trying to tell\nthe Baron up in the study; for everybody in Wantley knew all about the\nlegend except one person, and that was Miss Elaine, Sir Godfrey's only\ndaughter, eighteen years old at the last Court of Piepoudre, when her\nfather (after paying all the farmers for all the cows and sheep they\ntold him had been eaten by the Dragon since the last Court) had made\nhis customary proclamation, to wit: his good-will and protection to\nall his tenantry; and if any man, woman, child, or other person,\ncaused his daughter, Miss Elaine, to hear anything about the legend,\nsuch tale-bearer should be chained to a tree, and kept fat until the\nDragon found him and ate him. So everybody obligingly kept the Baron's\nsecret.\n\nSir Godfrey is just this day returned from France with some famous\ntuns of wine, and presents for Elaine and Mrs. Mistletoe. His humour\nis (or was, till Whelpdale, poor wretch! answered the bell) of the\nbest possible. And now, this moment, he is being told by the luckless\nButtons that the Dragon of Wantley has taken to drinking, as well as\neating, what does not belong to him; has for the last three nights\nburst the big gates of the wine-cellar that open on the hillside the\nManor stands upon; that a hogshead of the Baron's best Burgundy is\ngoing; and that two hogsheads of his choicest Malvoisie are gone!\n\nOne hundred and twenty-eight gallons in three nights' work! But I\nsuppose a fire-breathing Dragon must be very thirsty.\n\nThere was a dead silence in the study overhead, and old Popham's\ncalves were shaking loose as he waited.\n\n\"And so you stood by and let this black, sneaking, prowling, thieving\"\n(here the Baron used some shocking expressions which I shall not set\ndown) \"Dragon swill my wine?\"\n\n\"St--st--stood by, your ludship?\" said little Whelpdale. \"No, sir; no\none didn't do any standing by, sir. He roared that terrible, sir, we\nwas all under the bed.\"\n\n\"Now, by my coat of mail and great right leg!\" shouted Sir Godfrey.\nThe quaking Popham heard no more. The door of the private staircase\nflew open with a loud noise, and down came little Whelpdale head over\nheels into the buttery. After him strode Sir Godfrey in full mail\narmour, clashing his steel fists against the banisters. The nose-piece\nof his helmet was pushed up to allow him to speak plainly,--and most\nplainly did he speak, I can assure you, all the way down stairs,\nkeeping his right eye glaring upon Popham in one corner of the\nbuttery, and at the same time petrifying Whelpdale with his left. From\nfather to son, the Disseisins had always been famous for the manner in\nwhich they could straddle their eyes; and in Sir Godfrey the family\ntrait was very strongly marked.\n\n[Illustration: The Baron pursueth Whelpdale into the Buttery]\n\nArrived at the bottom, he stopped for a moment to throw a ham through\nthe stained-glass window, and then made straight for Popham. But the\nhead Butler was an old family servant, and had learned to know his\nplace.\n\nWith surprising agility he hopped on a table, so that Sir Godfrey's\nfoot flew past its destined goal and caught a shelf that was loaded\nwith a good deal of his wedding china. The Baron was far too dignified\na person to take any notice of this mishap, and he simply strode on,\nout of the buttery, and so through the halls of the Manor, where all\nwho caught even the most distant sight of his coming, promptly\nwithdrew into the privacy of their apartments.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER II\n\n         How his Daughter, Miss Elaine, behaued in Consequence\n\n[Illustration: ELAINE MISTLETOE]\n\n\nThe Baron walked on, his rage mounting as he went, till presently he\nbegan talking aloud to himself. \"Mort d'aieul and Cosenage!\" he\nmuttered, grinding his teeth over these oaths; \"matters have come to a\npretty pass, per my and per tout! And this is what my wine-bibbing\nancestor has brought on his posterity by his omission to fight for the\nTrue Faith!\"\n\nSir Godfrey knew the outrageous injustice of this remark as well as\nyou or I do; and so did the portrait of his ancestor, which he\nhappened to be passing under, for the red nose in the tapestry turned\na deeper ruby in scornful anger. But, luckily for the nerves of its\ndescendant, the moths had eaten its mouth away so entirely, that the\nretort it attempted to make sounded only like a faint hiss, which the\nBaron mistook for a little gust of wind behind the arras.\n\n\"My ruddy Burgundy!\" he groaned, \"going, going! and my rich, fruity\nMalvoisie,--all gone! Father Anselm didn't appreciate it, either, that\nnight he dined here last September. He said I had put egg-shells in\nit. Egg-shells! Pooh! As if any parson could talk about wine. These\nChurch folk had better mind their business, and say grace, and eat\ntheir dinner, and be thankful. That's what I say. Egg-shells,\nforsooth!\" The Baron was passing through the chapel, and he\nmechanically removed his helmet; but he did not catch sight of the\nglittering eye of Father Anselm himself, who had stepped quickly into\nthe confessional, and there in the dark watched Sir Godfrey with a\nstrange, mocking smile. When he had the chapel to himself again, the\ntall gray figure of the Abbot appeared in full view, and craftily\nmoved across the place. If you had been close beside him, and had\nlistened hard, you could have heard a faint clank and jingle beneath\nhis gown as he moved, which would have struck you as not the sort of\nnoise a hair-shirt ought to make. But I am glad you were not there;\nfor I do not like the way the Abbot looked at all, especially so near\nChristmas-tide, when almost every one somehow looks kinder as he goes\nabout in the world. Father Anselm moved out of the chapel, and passed\nthrough lonely corridors out of Wantley Manor, out of the court-yard,\nand so took his way to Oyster-le-Main in the gathering dusk. The few\npeople who met him received his blessing, and asked no questions; for\nthey were all serfs of the glebe, and well used to meeting the Abbot\ngoing and coming near Wantley Manor.\n\nMeanwhile, Sir Godfrey paced along. \"To think,\" he continued, aloud,\n\"to think the country could be rid of this monster, this guzzling\nserpent, in a few days! Plenty would reign again. Public peace of mind\nwould be restored. The cattle would increase, the crops would grow, my\nrents treble, and my wines be drunk no more by a miserable,\nignorant--but, no! I'm her father. Elaine shall never be permitted to\nsacrifice herself for one dragon, or twenty dragons, either.\"\n\n\"Why, what's the matter, papa?\"\n\nSir Godfrey started. There was Miss Elaine in front of him; and she\nhad put on one of the new French gowns he had brought over with him.\n\n\"Matter? Plenty of matter!\" he began, unluckily. \"At least, nothing is\nthe matter at all, my dear. What a question! Am I not back all safe\nfrom the sea? Nothing is the matter, of course! Hasn't your old father\nbeen away from you two whole months? And weren't those pretty dresses\nhe has carried back with him for his little girl? And isn't the\nwine--Zounds, no, the wine isn't--at least, certainly it is--to be\nsure it's what it ought to be--_what_ it ought to be? Yes! But, Mort\nd'aieul! not _where_ it ought to be! Hum! hum! I think I am going\nmad!\" And Sir Godfrey, forgetting he held the helmet all this while,\ndashed his hands to his head with such violence that the steel edge\nstruck hard above the ear, and in one minute had raised a lump there\nas large as the egg of a fowl.\n\n\"Poor, poor papa,\" said Miss Elaine. And she ran and fetched some cold\nwater, and, dipping her dainty lace handkerchief into it, she bathed\nthe Baron's head.\n\n\"Thank you, my child,\" he murmured, presently. \"Of course, nothing is\nthe matter. They were very slow in putting the new\" (here he gave a\ngulp) \"casks of wine into the cellar; that's all. 'Twill soon be\ndinner-time. I must make me ready.\"\n\nAnd so saying, the Baron kissed his daughter and strode away towards\nhis dressing-room. But she heard him shout \"Mort d'aieul!\" more than\nonce before he was out of hearing. Then his dressing-room door shut\nwith a bang, and sent echoes all along the entries above and below.\n\n[Illustration: Sir Godfrey maketh him ready for the Bath]\n\nThe December night was coming down, and a little twinkling lamp hung\nat the end of the passage. Towards this Miss Elaine musingly turned\nher steps, still squeezing her now nearly dry handkerchief.\n\n\"What did he mean?\" she said to herself.\n\n\"Elaine!\" shouted Sir Godfrey, away off round a corner.\n\n\"Yes, papa, I'm coming.\"\n\n\"Don't come. I'm going to the bath. A--did you hear me say anything\nparticular?\"\n\n\"Do you mean when I met you?\" answered Elaine. \"Yes--no--that is,--not\nexactly, papa.\"\n\n\"Then don't dare to ask me any questions, for I won't have it.\" And\nanother door slammed.\n\n\"What did papa mean?\" said Miss Elaine, once more.\n\nHer bright brown eyes were looking at the floor as she walked slowly\non towards the light, and her lips, which had been a little open so\nthat you could have seen what dainty teeth she had, shut quite close.\nIn fact, she was thinking, which was something you could seldom accuse\nher of. I do not know exactly what her thoughts were, except that the\nwords \"dragon\" and \"sacrifice\" kept bumping against each other in\nthem continually; and whenever they bumped, Miss Elaine frowned a\nlittle deeper, till she really looked almost solemn. In this way she\ncame under the hanging lamp and entered the door in front of which it\nshone.\n\n[Illustration: SIR GODFREY getteth in to hys Bath]\n\nThis was the ladies' library, full of the most touching romances about\nRoland, and Walter of Aquitaine, and Sir Tristram, and a great number\nof other excitable young fellows, whose behaviour had invariably got\nthem into dreadful difficulties, but had as invariably made them, in\nthe eyes of every damsel they saw, the most attractive, fascinating,\nsweet, dear creatures in the world. Nobody ever read any of these\nbooks except Mrs. Mistletoe and the family Chaplain. These two were,\nindeed, the only people in the household that knew how to read,--which\nmay account for it in some measure. It was here that Miss Elaine came\nin while she was thinking so hard, and found old Mistletoe huddled to\nthe fire. She had been secretly reading the first chapters of a new\nand pungent French romance, called \"Roger and Angelica,\" that was\nbeing published in a Paris and a London magazine simultaneously. Only\nthus could the talented French author secure payment for his books in\nEngland; for King John, who had recently murdered his little nephew\nArthur, had now turned his attention to obstructing all arrangements\nfor an international copyright. In many respects, this monarch was no\ncredit to his family.\n\n[Illustration: MISTLETOE; CONSVLTETH YE COOKYNGE BOOKE]\n\nWhen the Governess heard Miss Elaine open the door behind her, she\nthought it was the family Chaplain, and, quickly throwing the shocking\nstory on the floor, she opened the household cookery-book,--an\nenormous volume many feet square, suspended from the ceiling by strong\nchains, and containing several thousand receipts for English, French,\nItalian, Croatian, Dalmatian, and Acarnanian dishes, beginning with a\npoem in blank verse written to his confectioner by the Emperor Charles\nthe Fat. German cooking was omitted.\n\n\"I'm looking up a new plum-pudding for Christmas,\" said Mistletoe,\nnervously, keeping her virtuous eyes on the volume.\n\n\"Ah, indeed!\" Miss Elaine answered, indifferently. She was thinking\nharder than ever,--was, in fact, inventing a little plan.\n\n\"Oh, so it's you, deary!\" cried the Governess, much relieved. She had\nfeared the Chaplain might pick up the guilty magazine and find its\npages cut only at the place where the French story was. And I am\ngrieved to have to tell you that this is just what he did do later in\nthe evening, and sat down in his private room and read about Roger and\nAngelica himself.\n\n\"Here's a good one,\" said Mistletoe. \"Number 39, in the Appendix to\nPart Fourth. Chop two pounds of leeks and----\"\n\n\"But I may not be here to taste it,\" said Elaine.\n\n\"Bless the child!\" said Mistletoe. \"And where else would you be on\nChristmas-day but in your own house?\"\n\n\"Perhaps far away. Who knows?\"\n\n\"You haven't gone and seen a young man and told him----\"\n\n\"A young man, indeed!\" said Elaine, with a toss of her head. \"There's\nnot a young man in England I would tell anything save to go about his\nbusiness.\"\n\nMiss Elaine had never seen any young men except when they came to dine\non Sir Godfrey's invitation; and his manner on those occasions so awed\nthem that they always sat on the edge of their chairs, and said, \"No,\nthank you,\" when the Baron said, \"Have some more capon?\" Then the\nBaron would snort, \"Nonsense! Popham, bring me Master Percival's\nplate,\" upon which Master Percival invariably simpered, and said that\nreally he did believe he _would_ take another slice. After these\ndinners, Miss Elaine retired to her own part of the house; and that\nwas all she ever saw of young men, whom she very naturally deemed a\nclass to be despised as silly and wholly lacking in self-assertion.\n\n\"Then where in the name of good saints are you going to be?\" Mistletoe\nwent on.\n\n\"Why,\" said Elaine, slowly (and here she looked very slyly at the old\nGoverness, and then quickly appeared to be considering the lace on her\ndress), \"why, of course, papa would not permit me to sacrifice myself\nfor one dragon or twenty dragons.\"\n\n\"What!\" screamed Mistletoe, all in a flurry (for she was a fool).\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Of course, I know papa would say that,\" said Miss Elaine, demure as\npossible.\n\n\"Oh, mercy me!\" squeaked Mistletoe; \"we are undone!\"\n\n\"To be sure, I might agree with papa,\" said the artful thing, knowing\nwell enough she was on the right track.\n\n\"Oo--oo!\" went the Governess, burying her nose in the household\ncookery-book and rocking from side to side.\n\n\"But then I might not agree with papa, you know. I might think,--might\nthink----\" Miss Elaine stopped at what she might think, for really she\nhadn't the slightest idea what to say next.\n\n\"You have no right to think,--no right at all!\" burst out Mistletoe.\n\"And you sha'n't be allowed to think. I'll tell Sir Godfrey at once,\nand he'll forbid you. Oh, dear! oh, dear! just before Christmas Eve,\ntoo! The only night in the year! She has no time to change her mind;\nand she'll be eaten up if she goes, I know she will. What villain told\nyou of this, child? Let me know, and he shall be punished at once.\"\n\n\"I shall not tell you that,\" said Elaine.\n\n\"Then everybody will be suspected,\" moaned Mistletoe. \"Everybody. The\nwhole household. And we shall all be thrown to the Dragon. Oh, dear!\nwas there ever such a state of things?\" The Governess betook herself\nto weeping and wringing her hands, and Elaine stood watching her and\nwondering how in the world she could find out more. She knew now just\nenough to keep her from eating or sleeping until she knew everything.\n\n\"I don't agree with papa, at all,\" she said, during a lull in the\ntears. This was the only remark she could think of.\n\n\"He'll lock you up, and feed you on bread and water till you\ndo--oo--oo!\" sobbed Mistletoe; \"and by that time we shall all be\nea--ea--eaten up!\"\n\n\"But I'll talk to papa, and make him change his mind.\"\n\n\"He won't. Do you think you're going to make him care more about a lot\nof sheep and cows than he does about his only daughter? Doesn't he pay\nthe people for everything the Dragon eats up? Who would pay him for\nyou, when you were eaten up?\"\n\n\"How do you know that I should be eaten up?\" asked Miss Elaine.\n\n\"Oh, dear! oh, dear! and how could you stop it? What could a girl do\nalone against a dragon in the middle of the night?\"\n\n\"But on Christmas Eve?\" suggested the young lady. \"There might be\nsomething different about that. He might feel better, you know, on\nChristmas Eve.\"\n\n\"Do you suppose a wicked, ravenous dragon with a heathen tail is going\nto care whether it is Christmas Eve or not? He'd have you for his\nChristmas dinner, and that's all the notice he would take of the day.\nAnd then perhaps he wouldn't leave the country, after all. How can you\nbe sure he would go away, just because that odious, vulgar legend says\nso? Who would rely on a dragon? And so there you would be gone, and he\nwould be here, and everything!\"\n\nMistletoe's tears flowed afresh; but you see she had said all that\nMiss Elaine was so curious to know about, and the fatal secret was\nout.\n\n[Illustration: ELAINE MAKETH AN VNEXPECTED REMARK]\n\nThe Quarter-Bell rang for dinner, and both the women hastened to\ntheir rooms to make ready; Mistletoe still boo-hooing and snuffling,\nand declaring that she had always said some wretched, abominable\nvillain would tell her child about that horrid, ridiculous legend,\nthat was a perfect falsehood, as anybody could see, and very likely\ninvented by the Dragon himself, because no human being with any\nfeelings at all would think of such a cruel, absurd idea; and if they\never did, they deserved to be eaten themselves; and she would not have\nit.\n\nShe said a great deal more that Elaine, in the next room, could not\nhear (though the door was open between), because the Governess put her\nfat old face under the cold water in the basin, and, though she went\non talking just the same, it only produced an angry sort of bubbling,\nwhich conveyed very little notion of what she meant.\n\nSo they descended the stairway, Miss Elaine walking first, very\nstraight and solemn; and that was the way she marched into the\nbanquet-hall, where Sir Godfrey waited.\n\n\"Papa,\" said she, \"I think I'll meet the Dragon on Christmas Eve!\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER III\n\n                    Reueals the _Dragon_ in his Den\n\n[Illustration: BROTHER HUBERT]\n\n\nAround the sullen towers of Oyster-le-Main the snow was falling\nsteadily. It was slowly banking up in the deep sills of the windows,\nand Hubert the Sacristan had given up sweeping the steps. Patches of\nit, that had collected on the top of the great bell as the slanting\ndraughts blew it in through the belfry-window, slid down from time to\ntime among the birds which had nestled for shelter in the beams below.\nFrom the heavy main outer-gates, the country spread in a white\nunbroken sheet to the woods. Twice, perhaps, through the morning had\nwayfarers toiled by along the nearly-obliterated high-road.\n\n\"Good luck to the holy men!\" each had said to himself as he looked at\nthe chill and austere walls of the Monastery. \"Good luck! and I hope\nthat within there they be warmer than I am.\" Then I think it very\nlikely that as he walked on, blowing the fingers of the hand that held\nhis staff, he thought of his fireside and his wife, and blessed\nProvidence for not making him pious enough to be a monk and a\nbachelor.\n\nThis is what was doing in the world outside. Now inside the stone\nwalls of Oyster-le-Main, whose grim solidity spoke of narrow cells and\nof pious knees continually bent in prayer, not a monk paced the\ncorridors, and not a step could be heard above or below in the\nstaircase that wound up through the round towers. Silence was\neverywhere, save that from a remote quarter of the Monastery came a\nfaint sound of music. Upon such a time as Christmas Eve, it might well\nbe that carols in plenty would be sung or studied by the saintly men.\nBut this sounded like no carol. At times the humming murmur of the\nstorm drowned the measure, whatever it was, and again it came along\nthe dark, cold entries, clearer than before. Away in a long vaulted\nroom, whose only approach was a passage in the thickness of the walls,\nsafe from the intrusion of the curious, a company is sitting round a\ncavernous chimney, where roars and crackles a great blazing heap of\nlogs. Surely, for a monkish song, their melody is most odd; yet monks\nthey are, for all are clothed in gray, like Father Anselm, and a rope\nround the waist of each. But what can possibly be in that huge silver\nrundlet into which they plunge their goblets so often? The song grows\nlouder than ever.\n\n    We are the monks of Oyster-le-Main,\n    Hooded and gowned as fools may see;\n    Hooded and gowned though we monks be,\n    Is that a reason we should abstain\n    From cups of the gamesome Burgundie?\n\n    Though our garments make it plain\n    That we are Monks of Oyster-le-Main,\n    That is no reason we should abstain\n    From cups of the gamesome Burgundie.\n\n\"I'm sweating hot,\" says one. \"How for disrobing, brothers? No danger\non such a day as this, foul luck to the snow!\"\n\nWhich you see was coarse and vulgar language for any one to be heard\nto use, and particularly so for a godly celibate. But the words were\nscarce said, when off fly those monks' hoods, and the waist-ropes\nrattle as they fall on the floor, and the gray gowns drop down and are\nkicked away.\n\nEvery man jack of them is in black armour, with a long sword buckled\nto his side.\n\n\"Long cheer to the Guild of Go-as-you-Please!\" they shouted, hoarsely,\nand dashed their drinking-horns on the board. Then filled them again.\n\n\"Give us a song, Hubert,\" said one. \"The day's a dull one out in the\nworld.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"Wait a while,\" replied Hubert, whose nose was hidden in his cup;\n\"this new Wantley tipple is a vastly comfortable brew. What d'ye call\nthe stuff?\"\n\n\"Malvoisie, thou oaf?\" said another; \"and of a delicacy many degrees\nabove thy bumpkin palate. Leave profaning it, therefore, and to thy\nrefrain without more ado.\"\n\n\"Most unctuous sir,\" replied Hubert, \"in demanding me this favour, you\nseem forgetful that the juice of Pleasure is sweeter than the milk of\nHuman Kindness. I'll not sing to give thee an opportunity to outnumber\nme in thy cups.\"\n\nAnd he filled and instantly emptied another sound bumper of the\nMalvoisie, lurching slightly as he did so. \"Health!\" he added,\npreparing to swallow the next.\n\n\"A murrain on such pagan thirst!\" exclaimed he who had been toasted,\nsnatching the cup away. \"Art thou altogether unslakable? Is thy belly\na lime-kiln? Nay, shalt taste not a single drop more, Hubert, till we\nhave a stave. Come, tune up, man!\"\n\n\"Give me but leave to hold the empty vessel, then,\" the singer\npleaded, falling on one knee in mock supplication.\n\n\"Accorded, thou sot!\" laughed the other. \"Carol away, now!\"\n\nThey fell into silence, each replenishing his drinking-horn. The snow\nbeat soft against the window, and from outside, far above them,\nsounded the melancholy note of the bell ringing in the hour for\nmeditation.\n\nSo Hubert began:\n\n    When the sable veil of night\n      Over hill and glen is spread,\n    The yeoman bolts his door in fright,\n      And he quakes within his bed.\n    Far away on his ear\n      There strikes a sound of dread:\n    Something comes! it is here!\n      It is passed with awful tread.\n    There's a flash of unholy flame;\n      There is smoke hangs hot in the air:\n    'Twas the Dragon of Wantley came:\n      Beware of him, beware!\n\n          But we beside the fire\n            Sit close to the steaming bowl;\n          We pile the logs up higher,\n            And loud our voices roll.\n\n    When the yeoman wakes at dawn\n      To begin his round of toil,\n    His garner's bare, his sheep are gone,\n      And the Dragon holds the spoil.\n    All day long through the earth\n      That yeoman makes his moan;\n    All day long there is mirth\n      Behind these walls of stone.\n    For we are the Lords of Ease,\n      The gaolers of carking Care,\n    The Guild of Go-as-you-Please!\n      Beware of us, beware!\n\n          So we beside the fire\n            Sit down to the steaming bowl;\n          We pile the logs up higher,\n            And loud our voices roll.\n\nThe roar of twenty lusty throats and the clatter of cups banging on\nthe table rendered the words of the chorus entirely inaudible.\n\n\"Here's Malvoisie for thee, Hubert,\" said one of the company, dipping\ninto the rundlet. But his hand struck against the dry bottom. They had\nfinished four gallons since breakfast, and it was scarcely eleven gone\non the clock!\n\n\"Oh, I am betrayed!\" Hubert sang out. Then he added, \"But there is a\nplenty where that came from.\" And with that he reached for his gown,\nand, fetching out a bunch of great brass keys, proceeded towards a\ntall door in the wall, and turned the lock. The door swung open, and\nHubert plunged into the dark recess thus disclosed. An exclamation of\nchagrin followed, and the empty hide of a huge crocodile, with a pair\nof trailing wings to it, came bumping out from the closet into the\nhall, giving out many hollow cracks as it floundered along, fresh from\na vigourous kick that the intemperate minstrel had administered in his\nrage at having put his hand into the open jaws of the monster instead\nof upon the neck of the demijohn that contained the Malvoisie.\n\n\"Beshrew thee, Hubert!\" said the voice of a new-comer, who stood\neyeing the proceedings from a distance, near where he had entered;\n\"treat the carcase of our patron saint with a more befitting\nreverence, or I'll have thee caged and put upon bread and water.\nRemember, that whosoever kicks that skin in some sort kicks me.\"\n\n\"Long life to the Dragon of Wantley!\" said Hubert, reappearing, very\ndusty, but clasping a plump demijohn.\n\n\"Hubert, my lad,\" said the new-comer, \"put back that vessel of\ninebriation; and, because I like thee well for thy youth and thy sweet\nvoice, do not therefore presume too far with me.\"\n\nA somewhat uneasy pause followed upon this; and while Hubert edged\nback into the closet with his demijohn, Father Anselm frowned slightly\nas his eyes turned upon the scene of late hilarity.\n\nBut where is the Dragon in his den? you ask. Are we not coming to him\nsoon? Ah, but we have come to him. You shall hear the truth. Never\nbelieve that sham story about More of More Hall, and how he slew the\nDragon of Wantley. It is a gross fabrication of some unscrupulous and\nmediocre literary person, who, I make no doubt, was in the pay of More\nto blow his trumpet so loud that a credulous posterity might hear it.\nMy account of the Dragon is the only true one.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER IV\n\n                          Tells all about him\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nIn those days of shifting fortunes, of turbulence and rapine, of\nknights-errant and minstrels seeking for adventure and love, and of\nsolitary pilgrims and bodies of pious men wandering over Europe to\nproclaim that the duty of all was to arise and quell the pagan\ndefilers of the Holy Shrine, good men and bad men, undoubted saints\nand unmistakable sinners, drifted forward and back through every\ncountry, came by night and by day to every household, and lived their\nlives in that unbounded and perilous freedom that put them at one\nmoment upon the top limit of their ambition or their delight, and\nplunged them into violent and bloody death almost ere the moment was\ngone. It was a time when \"fatten at thy neighbour's expense\" was the\none commandment observed by many who outwardly maintained a profound\nrespect for the original ten; and any man whose wit taught him how\nthis commandment could be obeyed with the greatest profit and the\nleast danger was in high standing among his fellows.\n\nHence it was that Francis Almoign, Knight of the Voracious Stomach,\ncumbered with no domestic ties worthy of mention, a tall slim fellow\nwho knew the appropriate hour to slit a throat or to wheedle a maid,\ncame to be Grand Marshal of the Guild of Go-as-you-Please.\n\nThis secret band, under its Grand Marshal, roved over Europe and\nthrived mightily. Each member was as stout hearted a villain as you\ncould see. Sometimes their doings came to light, and they were forced\nto hasten across the borders of an outraged territory into new\npastures. Yet they fared well in the main, for they could fight and\ndrink and sing; and many a fair one smiled upon them, in spite of\ntheir perfectly outrageous morals.\n\nSo, one day, they came into the neighbourhood of Oyster-le-Main, where\nmuch confusion reigned among the good monks. Sir Godfrey Disseisin\nover at Wantley had let Richard Lion Heart depart for the Holy Wars\nwithout him. \"Like father like son,\" the people muttered in their\ndiscontent. \"Sure, the Church will gravely punish this second\noffence.\" To all these whisperings of rumour the Grand Marshal of the\nGuild paid fast attention; for he was a man who laid his plans deeply,\nand much in advance of the event. He saw the country was fat and the\nneighbours foolish. He took note of the handsome tithes that came in\nto Oyster-le-Main for the support of the monks. He saw all these\nthings, and set himself to thinking.\n\nUpon a stormy afternoon, when the light was nearly gone out of the\nsky, a band of venerable pilgrims stood at the great gates of the\nMonastery. Their garments were tattered, their shoes were in sad\ndisrepair. They had walked (they said) all the way from Jerusalem.\nMight they find shelter for the night? The tale they told, and the\nmere sight of their trembling old beards, would have melted hearts far\nharder than those which beat in the breasts of the monks of\nOyster-le-Main. But above all, these pilgrims brought with them as\nconvincing proofs of their journey a collection of relics and\ntalismans (such as are to be met with only in Eastern countries) of\ngreat wonder and virtue. With singular generosity, which they\nexplained had been taught them by the Arabs, they presented many of\nthese treasures to the delighted inmates of the Monastery, who\nhastened to their respective cells,--this one reverently cherishing a\ntuft of hair from the tail of one of Daniel's lions; another handling\nwith deep fervour a strip of the coat of many colours once worn by the\nexcellent Joseph. But the most extraordinary relic among them all was\nthe skin of a huge lizard beast, the like of which none in England had\never seen. This, the Pilgrims told their hosts, was no less a thing\nthan a crocodile from the Nile, the renowned river of Moses. It had\nbeen pressed upon them, as they were departing from the City of\nDamascus, by a friend, a blameless chiropodist, whose name was Omar\nKhayyam. He it was who eked out a pious groat by tending the feet of\nall outward and inward bound pilgrims. Seated at the entrance of his\nhumble booth, with the foot of some holy man in his lap, he would\nspeak words of kindness and wisdom as he reduced the inflammation. One\nof his quaintest sayings was, \"If the Pope has bid thee wear hair next\nthy bare skin, my son, why, clap a wig over thy shaven scalp.\" So the\nmonks in proper pity and kindness, when they had shut the great gates\nas night came down, made their pilgrim guests welcome to bide at\nOyster-le-Main as long as they pleased. The solemn bell for retiring\nrolled forth in the darkness with a single deep clang, and the sound\nwent far and wide over the neighbouring district. Those peasants who\nwere still awake in their scattered cottages, crossed themselves as\nthey thought, \"The holy men at Oyster-le-Main are just now going to\ntheir rest.\"\n\nAnd thus the world outside grew still, and the thick walls of the\nMonastery loomed up against the stars.\n\nDeep in the midnight, many a choking cry rang fearfully through the\nstony halls, but came not to the outer air; and the waning moon shone\nfaintly down upon the enclosure of the garden, where worked a band of\nsilent grave-diggers, clad in black armour, and with blood-red hands.\nThe good country folk, who came at early morning with their presents\nof poultry and milk, little guessed what sheep's clothing the gray\ncowls and gowns of Oyster-le-Main had become in a single night, nor\nwhat impious lips those were which now muttered blessings over their\nbent heads.\n\nThe following night, hideous sounds were heard in the fields, and\nthose who dared to open their shutters to see what the matter was,\nbeheld a huge lizard beast, with fiery breath and accompanied by\nrattling thunder, raging over the soil, which he hardly seemed to\ntouch!\n\nIn this manner did the dreaded Dragon of Wantley make his appearance,\nand in this manner did Sir Francis Almoign, Knight of the Voracious\nStomach, stand in the shoes of that Father Anselm whom he had put so\ncomfortably out of the way under the flower-beds in the Monastery\ngarden,--and never a soul in the world except his companions in orgy\nto know the difference. He even came to be welcome at Sir Godfrey's\ntable; for after the Dragon's appearance, the Baron grew civil to all\nmembers of the Church. By day this versatile sinner, the Grand\nMarshal, would walk in the sight of the world with staid step, clothed\nin gray, his hood concealing his fierce, unchurchly eyes; by night,\ninside the crocodile skin, he visited what places he chose, unhindered\nby the terrified dwellers, and after him came his followers of the\nGuild to steal the plunder and bear it back inside the walls of\nOyster-le-Main. Never in all their adventures had these superb\nmiscreants been in better plight; but now the trouble had begun, as\nyou are going to hear. We return to Hubert and the company.\n\n\"Hubert and all of you,\" said Father Anselm, or rather Sir Francis,\nthe Grand Marshal, as we know him to be, \"they say that whom the gods\ndesire to destroy, him do they first make drunk with wine.\"\n\n\"The application! the application!\" they shouted in hoarse and\nmirthful chorus, for they were certainly near that state favourable to\ndestruction by the gods. One black fellow with a sliding gait ran into\nthe closet and brought a sheet of thin iron, and a strange torch-like\ntube, which he lighted at the fire and blew into from the other end. A\nplume of spitting flame immediately shot far into the air.\n\n[Illustration: Hubert Looketh out of ye Window]\n\n\"Before thy sermon proceeds, old Dragon,\" he said, puffing unsteady\nbut solemn breaths between his words, \"wrap up in lightning and\nthunder that we may be--may be--lieve what you say.\" Then he shook the\niron till it gave forth a frightful shattering sound. The Grand\nMarshal said not a word. With three long steps he stood towering in\nfront of the man and dealt him a side blow under the ear with his\nsteel fist. He fell instantly, folding together like something\nboneless, and lay along the floor for a moment quite still, except\nthat some piece in his armour made a light rattling as though there\nwere muscles that quivered beneath it. Then he raised himself slowly\nto a bench where his brothers sat waiting, soberly enough. Only young\nHubert grinned aside to his neighbour, who, perceiving it, kept his\neyes fixed as far from that youth as possible.\n\n\"Thy turn next, if art not careful, Hubert,\" said Sir Francis very\nquietly, as he seated himself.\n\n\"Wonder of saints!\" Hubert thought secretly, not moving at all, \"how\ncould he have seen that?\"\n\n\"'Tis no small piece of good fortune,\" continued the Grand Marshal,\n\"that some one among us can put aside his slavish appetites, and keep\na clear eye on the watch against misadventure. Here is my news. That\nhotch-pot of lies we set going among the people has fallen foul of\nus. The daughter of Sir Godfrey has heard our legend, and last week\ntold her sire that to-night she would follow it out to the letter, and\nmeet the Dragon of Wantley alone in single combat.\"\n\n\"Has she never loved any man?\" asked one.\n\n\"She fulfils every condition.\"\n\n\"Who told her?\"\n\n\"That most consummate of fools, the Mistletoe,\" said the Grand\nMarshal.\n\n\"What did Sir Godfrey do upon that?\" inquired Hubert.\n\n\"He locked up his girl and chained the Governess to a rock, where she\nhas remained in deadly terror ever since, but kept fat for me to\ndevour her. Me!\" and Sir Francis permitted himself to smile, though\nnot very broadly.\n\n\"How if Sir Dragon had found the maid chained instead of the ancient\nwidow?\" Hubert said, venturing to tread a little nearer to familiarity\non the strength of the amusement which played across the Grand\nMaster's face.\n\n\"Ah, Hubert boy,\" he replied, \"I see it is not in the Spring only,\nbut in Autumn and Summer and Winter as well, that thy fancy turns to\nthoughts of love. Did the calendar year but contain a fifth season, in\nthat also wouldst thou be making honey-dew faces at somebody.\"\n\nBut young Hubert only grinned, and closed his flashing eyes a little,\nin satisfaction at the character which had been given him.\n\n\"Time presses,\" Sir Francis said. \"By noon we shall receive an\nimportant visit. There has been a great sensation at Wantley. The\ncountry folk are aroused; the farmers have discovered that the secret\nof our legend has been revealed to Miss Elaine. Not one of the clowns\nwould have dared reveal it himself, but all rejoice in the bottom of\ntheir hearts that she knows it, and chooses to risk battle with the\nDragon. Their honest Saxon minds perceive the thrift of such an\narrangement. Therefore there is general anxiety and disturbance to\nknow if Sir Godfrey will permit the conflict. The loss of his\nMalvoisie tried him sorely,--but he remains a father.\"\n\n\"That's kind in him,\" said Hubert.\n\nSir Francis turned a cold eye on Hubert. \"As befits a clean-blooded\nman,\" he proceeded, \"I have risen at the dawn and left you wine-pots\nin your thick sleep. From the wood's edge over by Wantley I've watched\nthe Baron come eagerly to an upper window in his white night-shift.\nAnd when he looks out on Mistletoe and sees she is not devoured, he\nbursts into a rage that can be plainly seen from a distance. These six\nmornings I laughed so loud at this spectacle, that I almost feared\ndiscovery. Next, the Baron visits his daughter, only to find her food\nuntasted and herself silent. I fear she is less of a fool than the\nrest. But now his paternal heart smites him, and he has let her out.\nAlso the Governess is free.\"\n\n\"Such a girl as that would not flinch from meeting our Dragon,\" said\nHubert; \"aye, or from seeking him.\"\n\n\"She must never meet the Dragon,\" Sir Francis declared. \"What could I\ndo shut up in the crocodile, and she with a sword, of course?\"\n\nThey were gloomily silent.\n\n\"I could not devour her properly as a dragon should. Nor could I carry\nher away,\" pursued Sir Francis.\n\nHere Hubert, who had gone to the window, returned hastily, exclaiming,\n\"They are coming!\"\n\n\"Who are coming?\" asked several.\n\n\"The Baron, his daughter, the Governess, and all Wantley at their\nbacks, to ask our pious advice,\" said the Grand Marshal. \"Quick, into\nyour gowns, one and all! Be monks outside, though you stay men\nunderneath.\" For a while the hall was filled with jostling gray\nfigures entangled in the thick folds of the gowns, into which the\narms, legs, and heads had been thrust regardless of direction; the\narmour clashed invisible underneath as the hot and choked members of\nthe Guild plunged about like wild animals sewed into sacks, in their\nstruggles to reappear in decent monastic attire. The winged crocodile\nwas kicked into the closet, after it were hurled the thunder machine\nand the lightning torch, and after them clattered the cups and the\nsilver rundlet. Barely had Hubert turned the key, when knocking at the\nfar-off gate was heard.\n\n\"Go down quickly, Hubert,\" said the Grand Marshal, \"and lead them all\nhere.\"\n\nPresently the procession of laity, gravely escorted by Hubert, began\nto file into the now barren-looking room, while the monks stood with\nhands folded, and sang loudly what sounded to the uninstructed ears of\neach listener like a Latin hymn.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER V\n\n                   In which the Hero makes his first\n                  Appearance & is at Once locked up.\n\n[Illustration: FATHER ANSELM SIR GODFREY]\n\n\nWith the respect that was due to holy men, Sir Godfrey removed his\nhelmet, and stood waiting in a decent attitude of attention to the\nhymn, although he did not understand a single word of it. The long\ndeliberate Latin words rolled out very grand to his ear, and, to tell\nyou the truth, it is just as well his scholarship was faulty, for this\nis the English of those same words:\n\n    \"It is my intention\n    To die in a tavern,\n    With wine in the neighbourhood,\n    Close by my thirsty mouth;\n    That angels in chorus\n    May sing, when they reach me,--\n    'Let Bacchus be merciful\n    Unto this wine-bibber.'\"\n\nBut so devoutly did the monks dwell upon the syllables, so earnestly\nwere the arms of each one folded against his breast, that you would\nnever have suspected any unclerical sentiments were being expressed.\nThe proximity of so many petticoats and kirtles caused considerable\nrestlessness to Hubert; but he felt the burning eye of the Grand\nMarshal fixed upon him, and sang away with all his might.\n\nSir Godfrey began to grow impatient.\n\n\"Hem!\" he said, moving his foot slightly.\n\nThis proceeding, however, was without result. The pious chant\ncontinued to resound, and the monks paid not the least attention to\ntheir visitors, but stood up together in a double line, vociferating\nLatin with as much zest as ever.\n\n\"Mort d'aieul!\" growled Sir Godfrey, shifting his other foot, and not\nso gingerly this second time.\n\nBy chance the singing stopped upon the same instant, so that the\nBaron's remark and the noise his foot had made sounded all over the\nroom. This disconcerted him; for he felt his standing with the Church\nto be weak, and he rolled his eyes from one side to the other,\nwatching for any effect his disturbance might have made. But, with the\nbreeding of a true man of the world, the Grand Marshal merely\nobserved, \"Benedicite, my son!\"\n\n\"Good-morning, Father,\" returned Sir Godfrey.\n\n\"And what would you with me?\" pursued the so-called Father Anselm.\n\"Speak, my son.\"\n\n\"Well, the fact is----\" the Baron began, marching forward; but he\nencountered the eye of the Abbot, where shone a cold surprise at this\nover-familiar fashion of speech; so he checked himself, and, in as\nrestrained a voice as he could command, told his story. How his\ndaughter had determined to meet the Dragon, and so save Wantley; how\nnothing that a parent could say had influenced her intentions in the\nleast; and now he placed the entire matter in the hands of the Church.\n\n\"Which would have been more becoming if you had done it at the first,\"\nsaid Father Anselm, reprovingly. Then he turned to Miss Elaine, who\nall this while had been looking out of the window with the utmost\nindifference.\n\n\"How is this, my daughter?\" he said gravely, in his deep voice.\n\n\"Oh, the dear blessed man!\" whispered Mistletoe, admiringly, to\nherself.\n\n\"It is as you hear, Father,\" said Miss Elaine, keeping her eyes away.\n\n\"And why do you think that such a peril upon your part would do away\nwith this Dragon?\"\n\n\"Says not the legend so?\" she replied.\n\n\"And what may the legend be, my daughter?\"\n\nWith some surprise that so well informed a person as Father Anselm\nshould be ignorant of this prominent topic of the day, Sir Godfrey\nhere broke in and narrated the legend to him with many vigourous\ncomments.\n\n\"Ah, yes,\" said the Father, smiling gently when the story was done; \"I\ndo now remember that some such child's tale was in the mouths of the\ncommon folk once; but methought the nonsense was dead long since.\"\n\n\"The nonsense, Father!\" exclaimed Elaine.\n\n\"Of a surety, my child. Dost suppose that Holy Church were so unjust\nas to visit the sins of thy knightly relatives upon the head of any\nweak woman, who is not in the order of creation designed for personal\nconflict with men, let alone dragons?\"\n\n\"Bravo, Dragon!\" thought Hubert, as he listened to this wily talk of\nhis chief.\n\nBut the words \"weak woman\" had touched the pride of Miss Elaine. \"I\nknow nothing of weak women,\" she said, very stately; \"but I do know\nthat I am strong enough to meet this Dragon, and, moreover, firmly\nintend to do so this very night.\"\n\n\"Peace, my daughter,\" said the monk; \"and listen to the voice of thy\nmother the Church speaking through the humblest of her servants. This\nlegend of thine holds not a single grain of truth. 'Tis a conceit of\nthe common herd, set afoot by some ingenious fellow who may have\nthought he was doing a great thing in devising such fantastic mixture.\nTrue it is that the Monster is a visitation to punish the impiety of\ncertain members of thy family. True it is that he will not depart till\na member of that family perform a certain act. But it is to be a male\ndescendant.\"\n\nNow Sir Godfrey's boy Roland was being instructed in knightly arts\nand conduct away from home.\n\n\"Who told you that?\" inquired the Baron, as the thought of his\nprecious wine-cellar came into his head.\n\n\"On last Christmas Eve I had a vision,\" replied Father Anselm. \"Thy\ngrandfather, the brave youth who by journeying to the Holy War averted\nthis curse until thine own conduct caused it to descend upon us,\nappeared to me in shining armour. 'Anselm,' he said, and raised his\nright arm, 'the Dragon is a grievous burden on the people. I can see\nthat from where I am. Now, Anselm, when the fitting hour shall come,\nand my great-grandson's years be mature enough to have made a man of\nhim, let him go to the next Holy War that is proclaimed, and on the\nvery night of his departure the curse will be removed and our family\nforgiven. More than this, Anselm, if any male descendant from me\ndirect shall at any time attend a Crusade when it is declared, the\ncountry will be free forever.' So saying, he dissolved out of my sight\nin a silver gleaming mist.\" Here Father Anselm paused, and from under\nhis hood watched with a trifle of anxiety the effect of his speech.\n\nThere was a short silence, and then Sir Godfrey said, \"Am I to\nunderstand this thing hangs on the event of another Crusade?\"\n\nThe Abbot bowed.\n\n\"Meanwhile, till that event happen, the Dragon can rage unchecked?\"\n\nThe Abbot bowed again.\n\n\"Will there be another Crusade along pretty soon?\" Sir Godfrey\npursued.\n\n\"These things lie not in human knowledge,\" replied Father Anselm. He\nlittle dreamed what news the morrow's sun would see.\n\n\"Oh, my sheep!\" groaned many a poor farmer.\n\n\"Oh, my Burgundy!\" groaned Sir Godfrey.\n\n\"In that case,\" exclaimed Elaine, her cheeks pink with excitement, \"I\nshall try the virtue of the legend, at any rate.\"\n\n\"Most impious, my daughter, most impious will such conduct be in the\nsight of Mother Church,\" said Father Anselm.\n\n\"Hear me, all people!\" shouted Sir Godfrey, foreseeing that before\nthe next Crusade came every drop of wine in his cellar would be\nswallowed by the Dragon; \"hear me proclaim and solemnly promise:\nlegend true or legend false, my daughter shall not face this risk. But\nif her heart go with it, her hand shall be given to that man who by\nnight or light brings me this Dragon, alive or dead!\"\n\n[Illustration: Geoffrey replyeth with deplorable Flippancy to Father\nAnselm.]\n\n\"A useless promise, Sir Godfrey!\" said Father Anselm, shrugging his\nshoulders. \"We dare not discredit the word of thy respected\ngrandsire.\"\n\n\"My respected grandsire be----\"\n\n\"_What?_\" said the Abbot.\n\n\"Became a credit to his family,\" said the Baron, quite mildly; \"and I\nslight no word of his. But he did not contradict this legend in the\nvision, I think.\"\n\n\"No, he did not, papa,\" Miss Elaine put in. \"He only mentioned\nanother way of getting rid of this horrible Dragon. Now, papa,\nwhatever you may say about--about my heart and hand,\" she continued\nfirmly, \"I am going to meet the Monster alone myself, to-night.\"\n\n\"That you shall not,\" said Sir Godfrey.\n\n\"A hundred times no!\" said a new voice from the crowd. \"I will meet\nhim myself!\"\n\nAll turned and saw a knight pushing his way through the people.\n\n\"Who are you?\" inquired the Baron.\n\nThe stranger bowed haughtily; and Elaine watched him remove his\nhelmet, and reveal underneath it the countenance of a young man who\nturned to her, and----\n\nWhy, what's this, Elaine? Why does everything seem to swim and grow\nmisty as his eye meets yours? And why does he look at you so, and\ndeeply flush to the very rim of his curly hair? And as his glance\ngrows steadier and more intent upon your eyes that keep stealing over\nat him, can you imagine why his hand trembles on the hilt of his\nsword? Don't you remember what the legend said?\n\n\"Who are you?\" the Baron repeated, impatiently.\n\n\"I am Geoffrey, son of Bertram of Poictiers,\" answered the young man.\n\n\"And what,\" asked Father Anselm, with a certain irony in his voice,\n\"does Geoffrey, son of Bertram of Poictiers, so far away from his papa\nin this inclement weather?\"\n\nThe knight surveyed the monk for a moment, and then said, \"As thou art\nnot my particular Father Confessor, stick to those matters which\nconcern thee.\"\n\nThis reply did not please any man present, for it seemed to savour of\ndisrespect. But Elaine lost no chance of watching the youth, who now\nstood alone in the middle of the hall. Sir Francis detected this, and\nsmiled with a sly smile.\n\n\"Will some person inquire of this polite young man,\" he said, \"what he\nwishes with us?\"\n\n\"Show me where this Dragon of Wantley comes,\" said Geoffrey, \"for I\nintend to slay him to-night.\"\n\n\"Indeed, sir,\" fluttered Elaine, stepping towards him a little, \"I\nhope--that is, I beg you'll do no such dangerous thing as that for my\nsake.\"\n\n\"For your sake?\" Father Anselm broke in. \"For your sake? And why so?\nWhat should Elaine, daughter of Sir Godfrey Disseisin, care for the\ncarcase of Geoffrey, son of Bertram of Poictiers?\"\n\nBut Elaine, finding nothing to answer, turned rosy pink instead.\n\n\"That rules you out!\" exclaimed the Father, in triumph. \"Your legend\ndemands a maid who never has cared for any man.\"\n\n\"Pooh!\" said Geoffrey, \"leave it to me.\"\n\n\"Seize him!\" shouted Sir Godfrey in a rage. \"He had ruled out my\ndaughter.\" Consistency had never been one of the Baron's strong\npoints.\n\n\"Seize him!\" said Father Anselm. \"He outrages Mother Church.\"\n\nThe vassals closed up behind young Geoffrey, who was pinioned in a\nsecond. He struggled with them till the veins stood out in his\nforehead in blue knots; but, after all, one young man of twenty is not\nmuch among a band of stout yeomen; and they all fell in a heap on the\nfloor, pulling and tugging at Geoffrey, who had blacked several eyes,\nand done in a general way as much damage as he possibly could under\nthe circumstances.\n\nBut Elaine noticed one singular occurrence. Not a monk had moved to\nseize the young man, except one, who rushed forward, and was stopped,\nas though struck to stone, by Father Anselm's saying to him in a\nterrible undertone, \"Hubert!\"\n\nSimply that word, spoken quickly; but not before this Hubert had\nbrushed against her so that she was aware that there was something\nvery hard and metallic underneath his gray gown. She betrayed no sign\nof knowledge or surprise on her face, however, but affected to be\nabsorbed wholly in the fortunes of young Geoffrey, whom she saw\ncollared and summarily put into a cage-like prison whose front was\nthick iron bars, and whose depth was in the vast outer wall of the\nMonastery, with a little window at the rear, covered with snow. The\nspring-lock of the gate shut upon him.\n\n\"And now,\" said Father Anselm, as the Monastery bell sounded once\nmore, \"if our guests will follow us, the mid-day meal awaits us below.\nWe will deal with this hot-head later,\" he added, pointing to the\nprisoner.\n\nSo they slowly went out, leaving Geoffrey alone with his thoughts.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration: ELAINE]\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER VI\n\n     Miss Elaine loses her Heart & finds Something of the greatest\n                              Importance.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nDown stairs the Grace was said, and the company was soon seated and\nready for their mid-day meal.\n\n\"Our fare,\" said Father Anselm pleasantly to Sir Godfrey, who sat on\nhis right, \"is plain, but substantial.\"\n\n\"Oh--ah, very likely,\" replied the Baron, as he received a wooden\nbasin of black-bean broth.\n\n\"Our drink is----\"\n\nThe Baron lifted his eye hopefully.\n\n\"----remarkably pure water,\" Father Anselm continued. \"Clement!\" he\ncalled to the monk whose turn it was that day to hand the dishes,\n\"Clement, a goblet of our well-water for Sir Godfrey Disseisin. One of\nthe large goblets, Clement. We are indeed favoured, Baron, in having\nsuch a pure spring in the midst of our home.\"\n\n\"Oh--ah!\" observed the Baron again, and politely nerved himself for a\nswallow. But his thoughts were far away in his own cellar over at\nWantley, contemplating the casks whose precious gallons the Dragon had\nconsumed. Could it be the strength of his imagination, or else why was\nit that through the chilling, unwelcome liquid he was now drinking he\nseemed to detect a lurking flavour of the very wine those casks had\ncontained, his favourite Malvoisie?\n\nFather Anselm noticed the same taste in his own cup, and did not set\nit down to imagination, but afterwards sentenced Brother Clement to\nbread and water during three days, for carelessness in not washing the\nMonastery table-service more thoroughly.\n\n\"This simple food keeps you in beautiful health, Father,\" said\nMistletoe, ogling the swarthy face of the Abbot with an affection that\nhe duly noted.\n\n\"My daughter,\" he replied, gravely, \"bodily infirmity is the reward of\nthe glutton. I am well, thank you.\"\n\nMeanwhile, Elaine did not eat much. Her thoughts were busy, and\nhurrying over recent events. Perhaps you think she lost her heart in\nthe last Chapter, and cannot lose it in this one unless it is given\nback to her. But I do not agree with you; and I am certain that, if\nyou suggested such a notion to her, she would become quite angry, and\ntell you not to talk such foolish nonsense. People are so absurd about\nhearts, and all that sort of thing! No: I do not really think she has\nlost her heart yet; but as she sits at table these are the things she\nis feeling:\n\n1. Not at all hungry.\n\n2. Not at all thirsty.\n\n3. What a hateful person that Father Anselm is!\n\n4. Poor, poor young man!\n\n5. Not that she thinks of him in _that_ way, of course. The idea!\nHorrid Father Anselm!\n\n6. Any girl at all--no, not girl, _anybody_ at all--who had human\njustice would feel exactly as she did about the whole matter.\n\n7. He was very good-looking, too.\n\n8. Did he have--yes, they were blue. Very, very dark blue.\n\n9. And a moustache? Well, yes.\n\nHere she laughed, but no one noticed her idling with her spoon. Then\nher eyes filled with tears, and she pretended to be absorbed with the\nblack-bean broth, though, as a matter of fact, she did not see it in\nthe least.\n\n10. Why had he come there at all?\n\n11. It was a perfect shame, treating him so.\n\n12. Perhaps they were not blue, after all. But, oh! what a beautiful\nsparkle was in them!\n\nAfter this, she hated Father Anselm worse than ever. And the more she\nhated him, the more some very restless delicious something made her\ndraw long breaths. She positively must go up-stairs and see what He\nwas doing and what He really looked like. This curiosity seized hold\nof her and set her thinking of some way to slip away unseen. The\nchance came through all present becoming deeply absorbed in what Sir\nGodfrey was saying to Father Anselm.\n\n\"Such a low, coarse, untaught brute as a dragon,\" he explained,\n\"cannot possibly distinguish good wine from bad.\"\n\n\"Of a surety, no!\" responded the monk.\n\n\"You agree with me upon that point?\" said the Baron.\n\n\"Most certainly. Proceed.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm going to see that he gets nothing but the cider and small\nbeer after this.\"\n\n\"But how will you prevent him, if he visit your cellar again?\" Father\nAnselm inquired.\n\n\"I shall change all the labels, in the first place,\" the Baron\nanswered.\n\n\"Ha! vastly well conceived,\" said Father Anselm. \"You will label your\nBurgundy as if it were beer.\"\n\n\"And next,\" continued Sir Godfrey, \"I shall shift the present\npositions of the hogsheads. That I shall do to-day, after relabelling.\nIn the northern corner of the first wine vault I shall----\"\n\nJust as he reached this point, it was quite wonderful how strict an\nattention every monk paid to his words. They leaned forward,\nforgetting their dinner, and listened with all their might.\n\nOne of them, who had evidently received an education, took notes\nunderneath the table. Thus it was that Elaine escaped observation\nwhen she left the refectory.\n\n[Illustration: The Baron setteth forth his Plan for circumuenting the\nDragon]\n\nAs she came up-stairs into the hall where Geoffrey was caged, she\nstepped lightly and kept where she could not be seen by him. All was\nquiet when she entered; but suddenly she heard the iron bars of the\ncage begin to rattle and shake, and at the same time Geoffrey's voice\nbroke out in rage.\n\n\"I'll twist you loose,\" he said, \"you--(rattle, shake)--you--(kick,\nbang)----\" And here the shocking young man used words so violent and\nwicked that Elaine put her hands tight over her ears. \"Why, he is just\nas dreadful as papa, just exactly!\" she exclaimed to herself. \"Whoever\nwould have thought that that angelic face--but I suppose they are all\nlike that sometimes.\" And she took her hands away again.\n\n\"Yes, I will twist you loose,\" he was growling hoarsely, while the\nkicks and wrenches grew fiercer than ever, \"or twist myself stark,\nstaring blind--and----\"\n\n\"Oh, sir!\" she said, running out in front of the cage.\n\nHe stopped at once, and stood looking at her. His breast-plate and\ngauntlets were down on the floor, so his muscles might have more easy\nplay in dealing with the bars. Elaine noticed that the youth's shirt\nwas of very costly Eastern silk.\n\n\"I was thinking of getting out,\" he said at length, still standing and\nlooking at her.\n\n\"I thought I might--that is--you might----\" began Miss Elaine, and\nstopped. Upon which another silence followed.\n\n\"Lady, who sent you here?\" he inquired.\n\n\"Oh, they don't know!\" she replied, hastily; and then, seeing how\nbright his face became, and hearing her own words, she looked down,\nand the crimson went over her cheeks as he watched her.\n\n\"Oh, if I could get out!\" he said, desperately. \"Lady, what is your\nname, if I might be so bold.\"\n\n\"My name, sir, is Elaine. Perhaps there is a key somewhere,\" she said.\n\n\"And I am called Geoffrey,\" he said, in reply.\n\n\"I think we might find a key,\" Elaine repeated.\n\nShe turned towards the other side of the room, and there hung a great\nbunch of brass keys dangling from the lock of a heavy door.\n\nAh, Hubert! thou art more careless than Brother Clement, I think, to\nhave left those keys in such a place!\n\nQuickly did Elaine cross to that closed door, and laid her hand upon\nthe bunch. The door came open the next moment, and she gave a shriek\nto see the skin of a huge lizard-beast fall forward at her feet, and\nalso many cups and flagons, that rolled over the floor, dotting it\nwith little drops of wine.\n\nHearing Elaine shriek, and not able to see from his prison what had\nbefallen her, Geoffrey shouted out in terror to know if she had come\nto any hurt.\n\n\"No,\" she told him; and stood eyeing first the crocodile's hide and\nthen the cups, setting her lips together very firmly. \"And they were\nnot even dry,\" she said after a while. For she began to guess a little\nof the truth.\n\n\"Not dry? Who?\" inquired Geoffrey.\n\n\"Oh, Geoffrey!\" she burst out in deep anger, and then stopped,\nbewildered. But his heart leaped to hear her call his name.\n\n\"Are there no keys?\" he asked.\n\n\"Keys? Yes!\" she cried, and, running with them back to the bars, began\ntrying one after another in trembling haste till the lock clicked\npleasantly, and out marched young Geoffrey.\n\nNow what do you suppose this young man did when he found himself free\nonce more, and standing close by the lovely young person to whom he\nowed his liberty? Did he place his heels together, and let his arms\nhang gracefully, and so bow with respect and a manner at once\ndignified and urbane, and say, \"Miss Elaine, permit me to thank you\nfor being so kind as to let me out of prison?\" That is what he ought\nto have done, of course, if he had known how to conduct himself like a\nwell-brought-up young man. But I am sorry to have to tell you that\nGeoffrey did nothing of the sort, but, instead of that, behaved in a\nmost outrageous manner. He did not thank her at all. He did not say\none single word to her. He simply put one arm round her waist and gave\nher a kiss!\n\n\"Geoffrey!\" she murmured, \"don't!\"\n\nBut Geoffrey did, with the most astonishing and complacent\ndisobedience.\n\n\"Oh, Geoffrey!\" she whispered, looking the other way, \"how wrong of\nyou! And of me!\" she added a little more softly still, escaping from\nhim suddenly, and facing about.\n\n\"I don't see that,\" said Geoffrey. \"I love you, Elaine. Elaine,\ndarling, I----\"\n\n\"Oh, but you mustn't!\" answered she, stepping back as he came nearer.\n\n[Illustration: Geoffrey tuggeth at the Bars]\n\nThis was simply frightful! And so sudden. To think of\nher--Elaine!--but she couldn't think at all. Happy? Why, how wicked!\nHow had she ever----\n\n\"No, you must not,\" she repeated, and backed away still farther.\n\n\"But I will!\" said this lover, quite loudly, and sprang so quickly to\nwhere she stood that she was in his arms again, and this time without\nthe faintest chance of getting out of them until he should choose to\nfree her.\n\nIt was no use to struggle now, and she was still, like some wild bird.\nBut she knew that she was really his, and was glad of it. And she\nlooked up at him and said, very softly, \"Geoffrey, we are wasting\ntime.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, not at all,\" said Geoffrey.\n\n\"But we are.\"\n\n\"Say that you love me.\"\n\n\"But haven't I--ah, Geoffrey, please don't begin again.\"\n\n\"Say that you love me.\"\n\nShe did.\n\nThen, taking his hand, she led him to the door she had opened. He\nstared at the crocodile, at the wine-cups, and then he picked up a\nsheet of iron and a metal torch.\n\n\"I suppose it is their museum,\" he said; \"don't you?\"\n\n\"Their museum! Geoffrey, think a little.\"\n\n\"They seem to keep very good wine,\" he remarked, after smelling at the\ndemijohn.\n\n\"Don't you see? Can't you understand?\" she said.\n\n\"No, not a bit. What's that thing, do you suppose?\" he added, giving\nthe crocodile a kick.\n\n\"Oh, me, but men are simple, men are simple!\" said Elaine, in despair.\n\"Geoffrey, listen! That wine is my father's wine, from his own cellar.\nThere is none like it in all England.\"\n\n\"Then I don't see why he gave it to a parcel of monks,\" replied the\nyoung man.\n\nElaine clasped her hands in hopelessness, gave him a kiss, and became\nmistress of the situation.\n\n\"Now, Geoffrey,\" she said, \"I will tell you what you and I have really\nfound out.\" Then she quickly recalled all the recent events. How her\nfather's cellar had been broken into; how Mistletoe had been chained\nto a rock for a week and no dragon had come near her. She bade him\nremember how just now Father Anselm had opposed every plan for meeting\nthe Dragon, and at last she pointed to the crocodile.\n\n\"Ha!\" said Geoffrey, after thinking for a space. \"Then you mean----\"\n\n\"Of course I do,\" she interrupted. \"The Dragon of Wantley is now\ndown-stairs with papa eating dinner, and pretending he never drinks\nanything stronger than water. What do you say to that, sir?\"\n\n\"This is a foul thing!\" cried the knight. \"Here have I been damnably\nduped. Here----\" but speech deserted him. He glared at the crocodile\nwith a bursting countenance, then drove his toe against it with such\nvigour that it sailed like a foot-ball to the farther end of the hall.\n\n\"Papa has been duped, and everybody,\" said Elaine. \"Papa's French\nwine----\"\n\n\"They swore to me in Flanders I should find a real dragon here,\" he\ncontinued, raging up and down, and giving to the young lady no part of\nhis attention. She began to fear he was not thinking of her.\n\n\"Geoffrey----\" she ventured.\n\n\"They swore it. They had invited me to hunt a dragon with them in\nFlanders,--Count Faux Pas and his Walloons. We hunted day and night,\nand the quest was barren. They then directed me to this island of\nBritain, in which they declared a dragon might be found by any man who\nso desired. They lied in their throats. I have come leagues for\nnothing.\" Here he looked viciously at the distant hide of the\ncrocodile. \"But I shall slay the monk,\" he added. \"A masquerading\ncaitiff! Lying varlets! And all for nothing! The monk shall die,\nhowever.\"\n\n\"Have you come for nothing, Geoffrey?\" murmured Elaine.\n\n\"Three years have I been seeking dragons in all countries, chasing\ndeceit over land and sea. And now once more my dearest hope falls\nempty and stale. Why, what's this?\" A choking sound beside him stopped\nthe flow of his complaints.\n\n\"Oh, Geoffrey,--oh, miserable me!\" The young lady was dissolved in\ntears.\n\n\"Elaine--dearest--don't.\"\n\n\"You said you had come for n--nothing, and it was all st--stale.\"\n\n\"Ha, I am a fool, indeed! But it was the Dragon, dearest. I had made\nso sure of an honest one in this adventure.\"\n\n\"Oh, oh!\" went Miss Elaine, with her head against his shoulder.\n\n\"There, there! You're sweeter than all the dragons in the world, my\nlittle girl,\" said he. And although this does not appear to be a great\ncompliment, it comforted her wonderfully in the end; for he said it in\nher ear several times without taking his lips away. \"Yes,\" he\ncontinued, \"I was a fool. By your father's own word you're mine. I\nhave caught the Dragon. Come, my girl! We'll down to the refectory\nforthwith and denounce him.\"\n\nWith this, he seized Elaine's hand and hastily made for the stairs.\n\n\"But hold, Geoffrey, hold! Oh--I am driven to act not as maidens\nshould,\" sighed Elaine. \"He it is who ought to do the thinking. But,\ndear me! he does not know how. Do you not see we should both be lost,\nwere you to try any such wild plan?\"\n\n\"Not at all. Your father would give you to me.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, no, Geoffrey; indeed, papa would not. His promise was about a\ndragon. A live or a dead dragon must be brought to him. Even if he\nbelieved you now, even if that dreadful Father Anselm could not invent\nsome lie to put us in the wrong, you and I could never--that is--papa\nwould not feel bound by his promise simply because you did that. There\nmust be a dragon somehow.\"\n\n\"How can there be a dragon if there is not a dragon?\" asked Geoffrey.\n\n\"Wait, wait, Geoffrey! Oh, how can I think of everything all at\nonce?\" and Elaine pressed her hands to her temples.\n\n\"Darling,\" said the knight, with his arms once more around her, \"let\nus fly now.\"\n\n\"Now? They would catch us at once.\"\n\n\"Catch us! not they! with my sword----\"\n\n\"Now, Geoffrey, of course you are brave. But do be sensible. You are\nonly one. No! I won't even argue such nonsense. They must never know\nabout what we have been doing up here; and you must go back into that\ncage at once.\"\n\n\"What, and be locked up, and perhaps murdered to-night, and never see\nyour face again?\"\n\n\"But you shall see me again, and soon. That is what I am thinking\nabout.\"\n\n\"How can you come in here, Elaine?\"\n\n\"You must come to me. I have it! To-night, at half-past eleven, come\nto the cellar-door at the Manor, and I will be there to let you in.\nThen we can talk over everything quietly. I have no time to think\nnow.\"\n\n\"The cellar! at the Manor! And how, pray, shall I get out of that\ncage?\"\n\n\"Cannot you jump from the little window at the back?\"\n\nGeoffrey ran in to see. \"No,\" he said, returning; \"it is many spans\nfrom the earth.\"\n\nElaine had hurried into the closet, whence she returned with a dusty\ncoil of rope. \"Here, Geoffrey; quickly! put it about your waist. Wind\nit so. But how clumsy you are!\"\n\nHe stood smiling down at her, and she very deftly wound the cord up\nand down, over and over his body, until its whole length lay\ncomfortably upon him.\n\n\"Now, your breast-plate, quick!\"\n\nShe helped him put his armour on again; and, as they were engaged at\nthat, singing voices came up the stairs from the distant dining-hall.\n\n\"The Grace,\" she exclaimed; \"they will be here in a moment.\"\n\nGeoffrey took a last kiss, and bolted into his cage. She, with the\nkeys, made great haste to push the crocodile and other objects once\nmore into their hiding-place. Cups and flagons and all rattled back\nwithout regard to order, as they had already been flung not two hours\nbefore. The closet-door shut, and Elaine hung the keys from the lock\nas she had found them.\n\n\"Half-past eleven,\" she said to Geoffrey, as she ran by his cage\ntowards the stairs.\n\n\"One more, darling,--please, one! through the bars!\" he besought her,\nin a voice so tender, that for my part I do not see how she had the\nheart to refuse him. But she continued her way, and swiftly descending\nthe stairs was found by the company, as they came from the hall,\nbusily engaged in making passes with Sir Godfrey's sword, which he had\nleft leaning near the door.\n\n\"A warlike daughter, Sir Godfrey!\" said Father Anselm.\n\n\"Ah, if I were a man to go on a Crusade!\" sighed Miss Elaine.\n\n\"Hast thou, my daughter,\" said Father Anselm, \"thought better of thy\nrash intentions concerning this Dragon?\"\n\n\"I am travelling towards better thoughts, Father,\" she answered.\n\nBut Sir Francis did not wholly believe the young lady; and was not at\nrest until Sir Godfrey assured him her good conduct should be no\nmatter of her own choosing.\n\n\"You see,\" insinuated the Abbot, \"so sweet a maid as yours would be a\ntreat for the unholy beast. A meal like that would incline him to\nremain in a neighbourhood where such dainties were to be found.\"\n\n\"I'll have no legends and fool's tricks,\" exclaimed the Baron. \"She\nshall be locked in her room to-night.\"\n\n\"Not if she can help it,\" thought Miss Elaine. Her father had\nimprudently spoken too loud.\n\n\"'Twere a wise precaution,\" murmured Father Anselm. \"What are all the\nvintages of this earth by the side of a loving daughter?\"\n\n\"Quite so, quite so!\" Sir Godfrey assented. \"Don't you think,\" he\nadded, wistfully, \"that another Crusade may come along soon?\"\n\n\"Ah, my son, who can say? Tribulation is our meted heritage. Were thy\nthoughts more high, the going of thy liquors would not cause thee such\nsorrow. Learn to enjoy the pure cold water.\"\n\n\"Good-afternoon,\" said the Baron.\n\nWhen all the guests had departed and the door was shut safe behind\nthem, the Father and his holy companions broke into loud mirth. \"The\nMalvoisie is drunk up,\" said they; \"to-night we'll pay his lordship's\ncellars another visit.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                             CHAPTER VII\n\n                Shows what curious Things you may see,\n               if you don't go to Bed when you are sent\n\n[Illustration: GEOFFREY]\n\n\nTo have steered a sudden course among dangerous rocks and rapids and\ncome safe through, puts in the breast of the helmsman a calm content\nwith himself, for which no man will blame him. What in this world is\nthere so lifts one into complacency as the doing of a bold and\ncool-headed thing? Let the helmsman sleep sound when he has got to\nland! But if his content overtake him still on the water, so that he\ngrows blind to the treacherous currents that eddy where all looks\nplacid to the careless eye, let him beware!\n\nSir Francis came in front of the cage where sat young Geoffrey inside,\non the floor. The knight had put his head down between his knees, and\nseemed doleful enough.\n\n\"Aha!\" thought Sir Francis, giving the motionless figure a dark look,\n\"my hawk is moulting. We need scarcely put a hood on such a tersel.\"\n\nNext he looked at the shut door of the closet, and a shaft of alarm\nshot through him to see the keys hanging for anybody to make use of\nthem that pleased. He thought of Elaine, and her leaving the table\nwithout his seeing her go. What if she had paid this room a visit?\n\n\"Perhaps that bird with head under wing in there,\" he mused, looking\nonce more at Geoffrey, \"is not the simple-witted nestling he looks. My\nson!\" he called.\n\nBut the youth did not care to talk, and so showed no sign.\n\n\"My son, peace be with you!\" repeated Father Anselm, coming to the\nbars and wearing a benevolent mien.\n\nGeoffrey remained quite still.\n\n\"If repentance for thy presumption hath visited thee----\" went on the\nFather.\n\n\"Hypocrite!\" was the word that jumped to the youth's lips; but\nfortunately he stopped in time, and only moved his legs with some\nimpatience.\n\n\"I perceive with pain, my son,\" said Father Anselm, \"that repentance\nhath not yet visited thee. Well, 'twill come. And that's a blessing\ntoo,\" he added, sighing very piously.\n\n\"He plays a part pretty well,\" thought Geoffrey as he listened. \"So\nwill I.\" Then he raised his head.\n\n\"How long am I to stay in this place?\" he inquired, taking a tone of\nsullen humour, such as he thought would fit a prisoner.\n\n\"Certainly until thy present unbridled state of sin is purged out of\nthee,\" replied the Father.\n\n\"Under such a dose as thou art,\" Geoffrey remarked, \"that will be\nsoon.\"\n\n\"This is vain talk, my son,\" said the Abbot. \"Were I of the children\nof this world, my righteous indignation----\"\n\n\"Pooh!\" said Geoffrey.\n\n\"----would light on thee heavily. But we who have renounced the world\nand its rottenness\" (here his voice fell into a manner of chanting)\n\"make a holiday of forgiving injuries, and find a pleasure even in\npain.\"\n\n\"Open this door then,\" Geoffrey answered, \"and I'll provide thee with\na whole week of joy.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Father Anselm, \"I had never gathered from thy face that\nthou wert such a knave.\"\n\n\"At least in the matter of countenances I have the advantage of thee,\"\nthe youth observed.\n\n\"I perceive,\" continued the Father, \"that I must instruct thy spirit\nin many things,--submission, among others. Therefore thou shalt bide\nwith us for a month or two.\"\n\n\"That I'll not!\" shouted Geoffrey, forgetting his role of prisoner.\n\n\"She cannot unlock thee,\" Father Anselm said, with much art slipping\nElaine into the discourse.\n\nGeoffrey glared at the Abbot, who now hoped to lay a trap for him by\nmeans of his temper. So he went further in the same direction. \"Her\nwords are vainer than most women's,\" he said; \"though a lover would\ntrust in them, of course.\"\n\nThe knight swelled in his rage, and might have made I know not what\nunsafe rejoinder; but the cords that Elaine had wound about him\nnaturally tightened as he puffed out, and seemed by their pressure to\ncheck his speech and bid him be wary. So he changed his note, and said\nhaughtily, \"Because thy cowl and thy gown shield thee, presume not to\nspeak of one whose cause I took up in thy presence, and who is as high\nabove thee in truth as she is in every other quality and virtue.\"\n\n\"This callow talk, my son,\" said the Abbot quietly, \"wearies me much.\nLay thee down and sleep thy sulks off, if thou art able.\" Upon this,\nhe turned away to the closet where hung the brass keys, and opened the\ndoor a-crack. He saw the hide of the crocodile leaning against it, and\nthe overturned cups. \"Just as that boy Hubert packed them,\" he thought\nto himself in satisfaction; \"no one has been prying here. I flatter\nmyself upon a skilful morning's work. I have knocked the legend out of\nthe Baron's head. He'll see to it the girl keeps away. And as for yon\nimpudent witling in the cage, we shall transport him beyond the seas,\nif convenient; if not, a knife in his gullet will make him forget the\nDragon of Wantley. Truly, I am master of the situation!\" And as his\nself-esteem grew, the Grand Marshal rubbed his hands, and went out of\nthe hall, too much pleased with himself to notice certain little drops\nof wine dotted here and there close by the closet, and not yet quite\ndry, which, had his eye fallen upon them, might have set him\na-thinking.\n\nSo Geoffrey was left in his prison to whatever comfort meditation\nmight bring him; and the monks of Oyster-le-Main took off their gowns,\nand made themselves ready for another visit to the wine-cellars of\nWantley Manor.\n\nThe day before Christmas came bleakly to its end over dingle and fen,\nand the last gray light died away. Yet still you could hear the\nhissing snow beat down through the bramble-thorn and the dry leaves.\nAfter evening was altogether set in, Hubert brought the knight a\nsupper that was not a meal a hungry man might be over joyful at\nseeing; yet had Hubert (in a sort of fellowship towards one who seemed\nscarcely longer seasoned in manhood than himself, and whom he had seen\nblacken eyes in a very valiant manner) secretly prepared much better\nfood than had been directed by his worship the Abbot.\n\nThe prisoner feigned sleep, and started up at the rattle which the\nplate made as it was set down under his bars.\n\n\"Is it morning?\" he asked.\n\n\"Morning, forsooth!\" Hubert answered. \"Three more hours, and we reach\nonly midnight.\" And both young men (for different reasons) wished in\ntheir hearts it were later.\n\n\"Thou speakest somewhat curtly for a friar,\" said Geoffrey.\n\n\"Alas, I am but a novice, brother,\" whined the minstrel, \"and fall\neasily back into my ancient and godless syntax. There is food. Pax\nvobiscum, son of the flesh.\" Then Hubert went over to the closet, and\nvery quietly unlocking the door removed the crocodile and the various\nother implements that were necessary in bringing into being the dread\nDragon of Wantley. He carried them away to a remote quarter of the\nMonastery, where the Guild began preparations that should terrify any\nsuperstitious witness of their journey to get the Baron's wine.\nGeoffrey, solitary and watchful in his chilly cage, knew what work\nmust be going on, and waited his time in patience.\n\n[Illustration: Elaine cometh into the Cellar]\n\nAt supper over at Wantley there was but slight inclination to polite\nbanter. Only the family Chaplain, mindful that this was Christmas Eve,\nattempted to make a little small talk with Sir Godfrey.\n\n\"Christmas,\" he observed to the Baron, \"is undoubtedly coming.\"\n\nAs the Baron did not appear to have any rejoinder to this, the young\ndivine continued, pleasantly.\n\n\"Though indeed,\" he said, \"we might make this assertion upon any day\nof the three hundred and sixty-five, and (I think) remain accurate.\"\n\n\"The celery,\" growled the Baron, looking into his plate.\n\n\"Quite so,\" cried the Chaplain, cheerily. He had failed to catch the\nremark. \"Though of course everything does depend on one's point of\nview, after all.\"\n\n\"That celery, Whelpdale!\" roared Sir Godfrey.\n\nThe terrified Buttons immediately dropped a large venison pasty into\nMrs. Mistletoe's lap. She, having been somewhat tried of late, began\nscreeching. Whelpdale caught up the celery, and blindly rushed towards\nSir Godfrey, while Popham, foreseeing trouble, rapidly ascended the\nsideboard. The Baron stepped out of Whelpdale's path, and as he passed\nby administered so much additional speed that little Buttons flew\nunder the curtained archway and down many painful steps into the\nscullery, and was not seen again during that evening.\n\nWhen Sir Godfrey had reseated himself, it seemed to the Rev. Hucbald\n(such was the Chaplain's name) that the late interruption might be\nwell smoothed over by conversation. So he again addressed the Baron.\n\n\"To be sure,\" said he, taking a manner of sleek clerical pleasantry,\n\"though we can so often say 'Christmas is coming,' I suppose that if\nat some suitable hour to-morrow afternoon I said to you, 'Christmas\nis going,' you would grant it to be a not inaccurate remark?\" The\nBaron ate his dinner.\n\n\"I think so,\" pursued the Rev. Hucbald. \"Yes. And by the way, I notice\nwith pleasure that this snow, which falls so continually, makes the\nevent of a green Christmas most improbable. Indeed,--of course the\nproverb is familiar to you?--the graveyards should certainly not be\nfat this season. I like a lean graveyard,\" smiled the Rev. Hucbald.\n\n\"I hate a ---- fool!\" exclaimed Sir Godfrey, angrily.\n\nAfter this the family fell into silence. Sir Godfrey munched his food,\nbrooding gloomily over his plundered wine-cellar; Mrs. Mistletoe\nallowed fancy to picture herself wedded to Father Anselm, if only he\nhad not been a religious person; and Elaine's thoughts were hovering\nover the young man who sat in a cage till time came for him to steal\nout and come to her. But the young lady was wonderfully wise,\nnevertheless.\n\n\"Papa,\" she said, as they left the banquet-hall, \"if it is about me\nyou're thinking, do not be anxious any more at all.\"\n\n\"Well, well; what's the matter now?\" said the Baron.\n\n\"Papa, dear,\" began Elaine, winsomely pulling at a tassel on his\ndining-coat, \"do you know, I've been thinking.\"\n\n\"Think some more, then,\" he replied. \"It will come easier when you're\nless new at it.\"\n\n\"Now, papa! just when I've come to say--when I want--when you--it's\nvery hard----\" and here the artful minx could proceed no further, but\nturned a pair of shining eyes at him, and then looked the other way,\nblinking rapidly.\n\n\"Oh, good Lord!\" muttered Sir Godfrey, staring hard at the wall.\n\n\"Papa--it's about the Dragon--and I've been wrong. Very wrong. Yes; I\nknow I have. I was foolish.\" She was silent again. Was she going to\ncry, after all? The Baron shot a nervous glance at her from the corner\nof his eye. Then he said, \"Hum!\" He hoped very fervently there were to\nbe no tears. He desired to remain in a rage, and lock his daughter\nup, and not put anything into her stocking this Christmas Eve; and\nhere she was, threatening to be sorry for the past, and good for the\nfuture, and everything a parent could wish. Never mind. You can't\nexpect to get off as easily as all that. She had been very outrageous.\nNow he would be dignified and firm.\n\n\"Of course I should obey Father Anselm,\" she continued.\n\n\"You should obey me,\" said Sir Godfrey.\n\n\"And I do hope another Crusade will come soon. Don't you think they\nmight have one, papa? How happy I shall be when your wine is safe from\nthat horrid Dragon!\"\n\n\"Don't speak of that monster!\" shouted the Baron, forgetting all about\nfirmness and dignity. \"Don't dare to allude to the reptile in my\npresence. Look here!\" He seized up a great jug labelled \"Chateau\nLafitte,\" and turned it upside down.\n\n\"Why, it's empty!\" said Elaine.\n\n\"Ha!\" snorted the Baron; \"empty indeed.\" Then he set the jug down\nwrong side up, and remained glaring at it fixedly, while his chest\nrose and fell in deep heavings.\n\n\"Don't mind it so much, papa,\" said Elaine, coming up to him. \"This\nvery next season will Mistletoe and I brew a double quantity of\ncowslip wine.\"\n\n\"Brrrrooo!\" went Sir Godfrey, with a shiver.\n\n\"And I'm sure they'll have another Crusade soon; and then my brother\nRoland can go, and the Drag-- and the curse will be removed. Of\ncourse, I know that is the only way to get rid of it, if Father Anselm\nsaid so. I was very foolish and wrong. Indeed I was,\" said she, and\nlooked up in his face with eyes where shone such dear, good, sweet,\ninnocent, daughterly affection, that nobody in the wide world could\nhave suspected she was thinking as hard as she could think, \"If only\nhe won't lock me up! if only he won't! But, oh, it's dreadful in me to\nbe deceiving him so!\"\n\n\"There, there!\" said the Baron, and cleared his throat. Then he kissed\nher. Where were firmness and dignity now?\n\nHe let her push him into the chimney-corner, and down into a seat; and\nthen what did this sly, shocking girl do but sit on his knee and tell\nhim nobody ever had such a papa before, and she could never possibly\nlove any one half so much as she loved him, and weren't he and she\ngoing to have a merry Christmas to-morrow?\n\n\"How about that pretty young man? Hey? What?\" said Sir Godfrey, in\nhigh good-humour.\n\n\"Who?\" snapped Elaine.\n\n\"I think this girl knows,\" he answered, adopting a roguish\ncountenance.\n\n\"Oh, I suppose you mean that little fellow this morning. Pooh!\"\n\n\"Ho! ho!\" said her father. \"Ho! ho! Little fellow! He was a pretty\nlarge fellow in somebody's eyes, I thought. What are you so red about?\nHo! ho!\" and the Baron popped his own eyes at her with vast relish.\n\n\"Really, papa,\" said Miss Elaine, rising from his knee, with much\ncoldness, \"I hardly understand you, I think. If you find it amusing\n(and you seem to) to pretend that I----\" she said no more, but gave a\nslight and admirable toss of the head. \"And now I am very sleepy,\" she\nadded. \"What hour is it?\"\n\nSir Godfrey took out his grandfather's sun-dial, and held it to the\nlamp. \"Bless my soul,\" he exclaimed; \"it's twenty-two o'clock.\"\n(That's ten at night nowadays, young people, and much too late for you\nto be down-stairs, any of you.)\n\n\"Get to your bed at once,\" continued Sir Godfrey, \"or you'll never be\ndressed in time for Chapel on Christmas morning.\"\n\nSo Elaine went to her room, and took off her clothes, and hung up her\nstocking at the foot of the bed. Did she go to sleep? Not she. She\nlaid with eyes and ears wide open. And now alone here in the dark,\nwhere she had nothing to do but wait, she found her heart beating in\nanswer to her anxious and expectant thoughts. She heard the wind come\nblustering from far off across the silent country. Then a snore from\nMistletoe in the next room made her jump. Twice a bar of moonlight\nfell along the floor, wavering and weak, then sank out, and the pat of\nthe snow-flakes began again. After a while came a step through the\nhalls to her door, and stopped. She could scarcely listen, so hard she\nwas breathing. Was her father going to turn the key in her door,\nafter all? No such thought was any longer in his mind. She shut her\neyes quickly as he entered. His candle shone upon her quiet head, that\nwas nearly buried out of sight; then laughter shook him to see the\nstocking, and he went softly out. He had put on his bed-room slippers;\nbut, as he intended to make a visit to the cellar before retiring, it\nseemed a prudent thing to wear his steel breast-plate; and over this\nhe had slipped his quilted red silk dressing-gown, for it was a very\ncold night.\n\n[Illustration: GEOFFREY GOETH TO MEET THE DRAGON]\n\nWas there a sound away off somewhere out-of-doors? No. He descended\nheavily through the sleeping house. When the candle burned upright and\nclear yellow, his gait was steady; but he started many times at\ncorners where its flame bobbed and flattened and shrunk to a blue,\nsickly rag half torn from the wick. \"Ouf! Mort d'aieul!\" he would\nmutter. \"But I must count my wine to-night.\" And so he came down into\nthe wide cellars, and trod tiptoe among the big round tuns. With a\nwooden mallet he tapped them, and shook his head to hear the hollow\nhumming that their emptiness gave forth. No oath came from him at all,\nfor the matter was too grievous. The darkness that filled everywhere\nsave just next to the candle, pressed harder and harder upon him. He\nlooked at the door which led from inside here out into the night, and\nit was comfortable to know how thick were the panels and how stout the\nbolts and hinges.\n\n\"I can hold my own against any man, and have jousted fairly in my\ntime,\" he thought to himself, and touched his sword. \"But--um!\" The\nnotion of meeting a fiery dragon in combat spoke loudly to the better\npart of his valour. Suddenly a great rat crossed his foot. Ice and\nfire went from his stomach all through him, and he sprang on a wooden\nstool, and then found he was shaking. Soon he got down, with sweaty\nhands.\n\n\"Am I getting a coward?\" he asked aloud. He seized the mallet that had\nfallen, and struck a good knock against the nearest hogshead. Ah--ha!\nThis one, at least, was full. He twisted the wooden stop and drank\nwhat came, from the hollow of his hand. It was cowslip wine. Ragingly\nhe spluttered and gulped, and then kicked the bins with all his might.\nWhile he was stooping to rub his toe, who should march in but Miss\nElaine, dressed and ready for young Geoffrey. But she caught sight of\nher father in time, and stepped back into the passage in a flutter.\nGood heavens! This would never do. Geoffrey might be knocking at the\ncellar-door at any moment. Her papa must be got away at once.\n\n\"Papa! papa!\" she cried, running in.\n\nSir Godfrey sprang into the air, throwing mallet and candle against\nthe wine-butts. Then he saw it was only his daughter.\n\n\"Wretched girl! you--you--if you don't want to become an orphan, never\ntamper like that with my nerves again in your life. What are you come\nhere for? How dare you leave your bed at such an hour?\"\n\n\"Oh, mercy forgive us!\" whimpered a new voice.\n\nThere was Mistletoe at the door of the passage, a candle lifted high\nabove her head and wobbling, so that it shook the grease all over her\nnight-cap. With the other hand she clutched her camisole, while\nbeneath a yellow flannel petticoat her fat feet were rocking in the\nraw-wool foot-mittens she wore.\n\n\"Oh, dear: oh, Sir Godfrey! Oh, me!\" said she.\n\n\"Saint Charity! What do you want? Holy Ragbag, what's the matter? Is\neverybody in my house going stark mad?\" Here the Baron fell over the\nstool in the dark. \"Give me my candle!\" he roared. \"Light my candle!\nWhat business have either of you to come here?\"\n\n\"Please, sir, it's Miss Elaine I came for. Oh, me! I'll catch my death\nof cold. Her door shutting waked me up-stairs. Oh, dear! Where are we\ncoming to?\"\n\n\"You old mattrass!\" said Sir Godfrey. Then he turned to his daughter.\nBut this young lady had had a little time to gather her thoughts in.\nSo she cut short all awkward questionings with excellent promptness.\n\n\"Papa!\" she began, breathlessly. \"There! I heard it again!\"\n\n\"Heard it? What?\" cried the Baron, his eyes starting.\n\n\"It waked me up-stairs, and I ran to get you in your room, and\nyou----\"\n\n\"It--it? What's it? What waked you?\" broke in Sir Godfrey, his voice\nrising to a shriek.\n\n\"There it is again!\" exclaimed Elaine, clasping her hands. \"He's\ncoming! I hear him. The Dragon! Oh!\"\n\nWith this, she pretended to rush for the passage, where the squeaks of\nMistletoe could be heard already growing distant in the house. Away\nbolted Sir Godfrey after her, shouting to Elaine in terror\nundisguised, \"Lock your door! Lock your door!\" as he fled up-stairs.\n\nSo there stood Miss Elaine alone, with the coast clear, and no danger\nfrom these two courageous guardians. Then came a knock from outside,\nand her heart bounded as she ran through the cellar and undid the\ndoor.\n\n\"You darling!\" said Geoffrey, jumping in with legs all covered with\nsnow. He left the door open wide, and had taken four or five kisses at\nthe least before she could stop him. \"The moon was out for a while,\"\nhe continued, \"and the snow stopped. So I came a long way round-about,\nthat my tracks should not be seen. That's good strategy.\"\n\nBut this strange young lady said no word, and looked at him as if she\nwere going to cry.\n\n\"Why, what's the matter, dear?\" he asked.\n\n\"Oh, Geoffrey! I have been deceiving papa so.\"\n\n\"Pooh! It's not to be thought of.\"\n\n\"But I can't help thinking. I never supposed I could do so. And it\ncomes so terribly easy. And I'm not a bit clever when I'm good.\nAnd--oh!\" She covered her face and turned away from him.\n\n\"Stuff and nonsense!\" Geoffrey broke out. \"Do be reasonable. Here is a\ndragon. Isn't there?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And everybody wants to get rid of him?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And he's robbing your father?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"So you're acting for your father's good?\"\n\n\"Y--yes.\"\n\n\"Then----\"\n\n\"Now, Geoffrey, all your talking doesn't hide the badness in the least\nbit.\"\n\nShe was silent again; then suddenly seemed greatly relieved. \"I don't\ncare,\" she declared. \"Papa locked me up for a whole week, when all I\nwanted was to help him and everybody get rid of the Dragon. And I am\ntoo old to be treated so. And now I am just going to pretend there's a\ndragon when there's not. Oh, what's that?\"\n\nThis time it was no sham. Faint and far from the direction of\nOyster-le-Main came the roar of the Dragon of Wantley over fields and\nfarms.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                             CHAPTER VIII\n\n          Contains a Dilemma with two simply egregious Horns.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\"Run instantly into the house,\" said Geoffrey to Elaine, and he\ndragged out his sword.\n\nBut she stared at him, and nothing further.\n\n\"Or no. Stay here and see me kill him,\" the boy added, pridefully.\n\n\"Kill him!\" said she, in amazement. \"Do you suppose that papa, with\nall his experience, couldn't tell it was an imitation dragon? And you\ntalk of strategy! I have thought much about to-night,--and, Geoffrey,\nyou must do just the thing that I bid you, and nothing else. Promise.\"\n\n\"I think we'll hear first what your wisdom is,\" said he, shaking his\nhead like the sage youth that he was.\n\n\"Promise!\" she repeated, \"else I go away at once, and leave you. Now!\nOne--two--thrrr----\"\n\n\"I promise!\" he shouted.\n\n\"'Sh! Papa's window is just round the tower. Now, sir, you must go\nover yonder within those trees.\"\n\n\"Where?\"\n\n\"There where the snow has dipped the branches low down. And leave me\nalone in the cellar with the Dragon.\"\n\n\"With the Dragon? Alone? I did not know you counted me a lunatic,\"\nreplied Geoffrey. Then, after a look over the fields where the storm\nwas swirling, he gave attention to the point of his sword.\n\n\"Where's your promise?\" said she. \"Will you break your word so soon?\"\n\nA big gust of wind flung the snow sharp against their faces.\n\n\"Did you expect----\" began the young knight, and then said some words\nthat I suppose gentlemen in those old times were more prone to use\nbefore ladies than they are to-day. Which shows the optimists are\nright.\n\nThen, still distant, but not so distant, came another roar.\n\n\"Geoffrey!\" Elaine said, laying a hand upon his arm; \"indeed, you must\nhear me now, and make no delay with contrary notions. There is no\ndanger for me. Look. He will first be by himself to clear the way of\nwatchers. No one peeps out of windows when the Dragon's howling. Next,\nthe rest will come and all go into papa's cellar for the wine. But we\nmust get these others away, and that's for you.\" She paused.\n\n\"Well? Well?\" he said.\n\n\"It will go thus: the passage shall hide me, and the door of it be\nshut. You'll watch over by the trees, and when you see all have come\ninside here, make some sort of noise at the edge of the wood.\"\n\n\"What sort of noise?\"\n\n\"Oh,--not as if you suspected. Seem to be passing by. Play you are a\nvillager going home late. When they hear that, they'll run away for\nfear of their secret. The Dragon will surely stay behind.\"\n\n\"Why will he stay behind? Why will they run away?\"\n\n\"Dear Geoffrey, don't you see that if these men were to be seen in\ncompany with the Dragon by one who till now knew them as monks, where\nwould their living be gone to? Of course, they will get themselves out\nof sight, and the Dragon will remain as a sort of human scarecrow.\nThen I'll come out from the passage-door.\"\n\n\"One would almost think you desired that villain to kill you,\" said\nGeoffrey. \"No, indeed. I'll not consent to that part.\"\n\n\"How shall he kill me here?\" Elaine replied. \"Do you not see the\nDragon of Wantley would have to carry a maiden away? He would not dare\nto put me to the sword. When I come, I shall speak three words to him.\nBefore there is time for him to think what to do, you will hear me say\n(for you must have now run up from the wood) 'the legend has come\ntrue!' Then, when I tell him that, do you walk in ready with your\nsword to keep him polite. Oh, indeed,\" said the lady, with her eyes\nsparkling on Geoffrey, \"we must keep his manners good for him. For I\nthink he's one of those persons who might turn out very rude in a\ntrying situation.\"\n\nAll this was far from pleasing to young Geoffrey. But Elaine showed\nhim how no other way was to be found by which Sir Francis could be\ntrapped red-handed and distant from help. While the knight was bending\nhis brows down with trying to set his thoughts into some order that\nshould work out a better device, a glare shone over the next hill\nagainst the falling flakes.\n\n\"Quick!\" said Elaine.\n\nShe withdrew into the cellar on the instant, and the great door closed\nbetween them. Geoffrey stood looking at it very anxiously, and then\nwalked backwards, keeping close to the walls, and so round the tower\nand into the court, whence he turned and ploughed as fast as he could\nthrough the deep drifts till he was inside the trees. \"If they spy my\nsteps,\" he thought, \"it will seem as though some one of the house had\ngone in there to secure the door.\"\n\nOnce more the glare flashed against the swiftly-descending curtains of\nthe storm. Slowly it approached, sometimes illuminating a tree-trunk\nfor a moment, then suddenly gleaming on the white mounds where rocks\nlay deeply cloaked.\n\n\"He is pretty slow,\" said Geoffrey, shifting the leg he was leaning\non.\n\n[Illustration: The Dragon thinketh to slake his thirst]\n\nA black mass moved into sight, and from it came spoutings of fire that\nshowed dark, jagged wings heavily flapping. It walked a little and\nstopped; then walked again. Geoffrey could see a great snout and head\nrocking and turning. Dismal and unspeakable sounds proceeded from the\ncreature as it made towards the cellar-door. After it had got close\nand leaned against the panels in a toppling, swaying fashion, came a\nnoise of creaking and fumbling, and then the door rolled aside upon\nits hinges. Next, the blurred white ridge towards Oyster-le-Main was\ndarkened with moving specks that came steadily near; and man by man of\nthe Guild reached the open door crouching, whispered a word or two,\nand crept inside. They made no sound that could be heard above the\nhissing of the downward flakes and the wind that moaned always, but\nlouder sometimes. Only Elaine, with her ear to the cold iron key-hole\nof the passage-door, could mark the clink of armour, and shivered as\nshe stood in the dark. And now the cellar is full,--but not of gray\ngowns. The candle flames show little glistening sparks in the black\ncoats of mail, and the sight of themselves cased in steel, and each\nbearing an empty keg, stirred a laughter among them. Then the kegs\nwere set down without noise on the earthy floor among the bins. The\nDragon was standing on his crooked scaly hind-legs; and to see the\ngrim, changeless jaw and eyes brought a dead feeling around the\nheart. But the two bungling fore-paws moved upwards, shaking like a\nmachine, and out of a slit in the hide came two white hands that\nlifted to one side the brown knarled mask of the crocodile. There was\nthe black head of Sir Francis Almoign. \"'Tis hot in there,\" he said;\nand with two fingers he slung the drops of sweat from his forehead.\n\n\"Wet thy whistle before we begin,\" said Hubert, filling a jug for him.\nSir Francis took it in both hands, and then clutched it tightly as a\nsudden singing was set up out in the night.\n\n          \"Come, take a wife,\n          Come, take a wife,\n    Ere thou learnest age's treasons!\"\n\nThe tune came clear and jolly, cutting through the muffled noises of\nthe tempest.\n\n\"Blood and death!\" muttered Hubert.\n\nEach figure had sprung into a stiff position of listening.\n\n          \"Quit thy roving;\n          Shalt by loving\n    Not wax lean in stormy seasons.\n    Ho! ho! oh,--ho!\n          Not wax lean in----\"\n\nHere the strain snapped off short. Then a whining voice said, \"Oh, I\nhave fallen again! A curse on these roots. Lucifer fell only once, and\n'twas enough for him. I have looked on the wine when it was red, and\nmy dame Jeanie will know it soon, oh, soon! But my sober curse on\nthese roots.\"\n\n\"That's nothing,\" said Hubert. \"There's a band of Christmas singers\nhas strolled into these parts to chant carols. One of them has stopped\ntoo long at the tavern.\"\n\n\"Do I see a light?\" said the voice. \"Help! Give me a light, and let me\ngo home.\n\n    \"Quit thy roving;\n    Shalt by loving----\"\n\n\"Shall I open his throat, that he may sing the next verse in heaven?\"\nHubert inquired.\n\n\"No, fool!\" said Sir Francis. \"Who knows if his brother sots are not\nbehind him to wake the house? This is too dangerous to-night. Away\nwith you, every one. Stoop low till ye are well among the fields, and\nthen to Oyster-le-Main! I'll be Dragon for a while, and follow\nafter.\"\n\nQuickly catching up his keg, each man left the cellar like a shadow.\nGeoffrey, from the edge of the wood, saw them come out and dissolve\naway into the night. With the tube of the torch at his lips, Sir\nFrancis blew a blast of fire out at the door, then covered his head\nonce more with the grinning crocodile. He roared twice, and heard\nsomething creak behind him, so turned to see what had made it. There\nwas Miss Elaine on the passage-steps. Her lips moved to speak, but for\na short instant fear put a silence upon her that she found no voice to\nbreak. He, with a notion she was there for the sake of the legend,\nwaved his great paws and trundled towards where she was standing.\n\n\"Do not forget to roar, sir,\" said the young lady, managing her voice\nso there was scarce any tremble to be heard in it.\n\nAt this the Dragon stood still.\n\n\"You perceive,\" she said to him, \"after all, a dragon, like a mouse,\ncomes to the trap.\"\n\n\"Not quite yet,\" cried Sir Francis, in a terrible voice, and rushed\nupon her, meaning death.\n\n\"The legend has come true!\" she loudly said.\n\nA gleaming shaft of steel whistled across the sight of Sir Francis.\n\n\"Halt there!\" thundered Geoffrey, leaping between the two, and posing\nhis sword for a lunge.\n\n\"My hour has come,\" Sir Francis thought. For he was cased in the stiff\nhide, and could do nothing in defence.\n\n\"Now shalt thou lick the earth with thy lying tongue,\" said Geoffrey.\n\nA sneer came through the gaping teeth of the crocodile.\n\n\"Valiant, indeed!\" the voice said. \"Very valiant and knightly, oh son\nof Bertram of Poictiers! Frenchmen know when to be bold. Ha! ha!\"\n\n\"Crawl out of that nut, thou maggot,\" answered Geoffrey, \"and taste\nthy doom.\"\n\nHere was a chance, the gift of a fool. The two white hands appeared\nand shifted the mask aside, letting them see a cunning hope on his\nface.\n\n\"Do not go further, sir,\" said Elaine. \"It is for the good of us all\nthat you abide where you are. As I shall explain.\"\n\n\"What is this, Elaine?\" said Geoffrey.\n\n\"Your promise!\" she answered, lifting a finger at him.\n\nThere was a dry crack from the crocodile's hide.\n\n\"Villain!\" cried Geoffrey, seizing the half-extricated body by the\nthroat. \"Thy false skin is honester than thyself, and warned us. Back\ninside!\"\n\nThe robber's eyes shrivelled to the size of a snake's, as, with no\ntenderness, the youth grappled with him still entangled, and with\nhands, feet, and knees drove him into his shell as a hasty traveller\ntramples his effects into a packing-case.\n\n\"See,\" said Elaine, \"how pleasantly we two have you at our disposal.\nShall the neighbours be called to have a sight of the Dragon?\"\n\n\"What do you want with me?\" said Sir Francis, quietly. For he was a\nphilosopher.\n\n\"In the first place,\" answered Geoffrey, \"know that thou art caught.\nAnd if I shall spare thee this night, it may well be they'll set thy\ncarcase swinging on the gallows-tree to-morrow morning,--or, being\nChristmas, the day after.\"\n\n\"I can see my case without thy help,\" Sir Francis replied. \"What\nnext?\"\n\nAt this, Elaine came to Geoffrey and they whispered together.\n\n[Illustration: The Dragon perceiueth hymself to be entrapped]\n\n\"Thy trade is done for,\" said the youth, at length. \"There'll be no\nmore monks of Oyster-le-Main, and no more Dragon of Wantley. But thou\nand the other curs may live, if ye so choose.\"\n\n\"Through what do I buy my choice?\"\n\n\"Through a further exhibition of thine art. Thou must play Dragon\nto-night once again for the last time. This, that I may show thee\ncaptive to Sir Godfrey Disseisin.\"\n\n\"And in chains, I think,\" added Elaine. \"There is one behind the\npost.\" It had belonged in the bear-pit during the lives of Orlando\nCrumb and Furioso Bun, two bears trapped expressly for the Baron near\nRoncevaux.\n\n\"After which?\" inquired Sir Francis.\n\n\"Thou shalt go free, and I will claim this lady's hand from her\nfather, who promised her to any man that brought the Dragon to him\ndead or alive.\"\n\n\"Papa shall be kept at a distance from you,\" said Elaine, \"and will\nnever suspect in this dimness, if you roar at him thoroughly.\"\n\n\"Then,\" continued Geoffrey, \"I shall lead thee away as my spoil, and\nthe people shall see the lizard-skin after a little while. But thou\nmust journey far from Wantley, and never show face again.\"\n\n\"And go from Oyster-le-Main and the tithings?\" exclaimed Sir Francis.\n\"My house and my sustenance?\"\n\n\"Sustain thyself elsewhere,\" said Geoffrey; \"I care not how.\"\n\n\"No!\" said Sir Francis. \"I'll not do this.\"\n\n\"Then we call Sir Godfrey. The Baron will not love thee very much,\nseeing how well he loves his Burgundy thou hast drank. Thou gavest him\nsermons on cold spring-water. He'll remember that. I think thou'lt be\nsoon hanging. So choose.\"\n\nThe Knight of the Voracious Stomach was silent.\n\n\"This is a pretty scheme thou hast,\" he presently said. \"And not thine\nown. She has taught thee this wit, I'll be bound. Mated to her,\nthou'lt prosper, I fear.\"\n\n\"Come, thy choice,\" said Geoffrey, sternly.\n\nA sour smile moved the lips of Sir Francis. \"Well,\" he said, \"it has\nbeen good while it lasted. Yes, I consent. Our interests lie together.\nSee how Necessity is the mother of Friendship, also.\"\n\nThe mask was drawn over his face, and they wound the chain about the\ngreat body.\n\n\"There must be sounds of fighting,\" said Elaine. \"Make them when I am\ngone into the house.\"\n\n\"If I had strangled thee in thy prison, which was in my mind,\" said\nthe voice of the hidden speaker, \"this folly we--but there. Let it go,\nand begin.\"\n\nThen they fell to making a wonderful disturbance. The Dragon's voice\nwas lifted in horrid howlings; and the young knight continually bawled\nwith all his lungs. They chased as children in a game do: forward,\nback, and across to nowhere, knocking the barrels, clanking and\nclashing, up between the rows and around corners; and the dry earth\nwas ground under their feet and swept from the floor upward in a fine\nfloating yellow powder that they sucked down into their windpipes,\nwhile still they hustled and jangled and banged and coughed and grew\ndripping wet, so the dust and the water mingled and ran black streams\nalong their bodies from the neck downwards, tickling their backs and\nstomachs mightily. When the breath was no longer inside them, they\nstopped to listen.\n\nThe house was stone still, and no noise came, save always the wind's\nsame cheerless blowing.\n\n\"How much more of this before they will awaken?\" exclaimed Geoffrey,\nin indignation. \"'Tis a scandal people should sleep so.\"\n\n\"They are saying their prayers,\" said Sir Francis.\n\n\"It is a pity thou art such a miscreant,\" Geoffrey said, heartily;\n\"otherwise I could sweat myself into a good-humour with thee.\"\n\nBut Sir Francis replied with coldness, \"It is easy for the upper hand\nto laugh.\"\n\n\"We must at it again,\" said Geoffrey; \"and this time I will let them\nhear thou art conquered.\" The din and hubbub recommenced. And\nMistletoe could hear it where she quaked inside her closet holding the\ndoor with both hands. And the Baron could hear it. He was locked in\nthe bath-room, dreadfully sorry he had not gone to the Crusade. Quite\nunknowingly in his alarm he had laid hold of a cord that set going the\nshower-bath; but he gave no heed at all to this trifle. And every man\nand woman in the house heard the riot, from the scullion up through\nthe cook to Popham, who had unstrapped his calves before retiring, so\nthat now his lean shanks knocked together like hockey-sticks. Little\nWhelpdale, freezing in his shirt-tail under the bed, was crying\npiteously upon all Saints to forget about his sins and deliver him.\nOnly Miss Elaine standing in her room listened with calm; and she with\nnot much, being on the threshold of a chance that might turn untoward\nso readily. Presently a victorious shouting came from far down through\nthe dark.\n\n\"He is mine!\" the voice bellowed. \"I have laid him low. The Dragon is\ntaken.\" At this she hastened to summon Sir Godfrey.\n\n\"Why, where can he be?\" she exclaimed, stopping in astonishment at his\nroom, empty and the door open wide.\n\nDown in the cellar the voice continued to call on all people to come\nand see the Dragon of Wantley. Also Elaine heard a splashing and\ndripping that sounded in the bath-room. So she ran to the door and\nknocked.\n\n\"You can't come in!\" said the Baron angrily.\n\n\"Papa! They've caught the Dragon. Oh why are you taking your bath at\nsuch a time?\"\n\n\"Taking my grandmother!\" Sir Godfrey retorted in great dudgeon. But he\nlet the rope go, and the shower stopped running. \"Go to your room,\" he\nadded. \"I told you to lock your door. This Dragon----\"\n\n\"But he's caught, papa,\" cried Elaine through the key-hole. \"Don't you\nhear me? Geoff----somebody has got him.\"\n\n\"How now?\" said the Baron, unlocking the door and peering out. \"What's\nall this?\"\n\nHis dressing-gown was extremely damp, for stray spouts from the\nshower-bath had squirted over him. Fortunately, the breast-plate\nunderneath had kept him dry as far as it went.\n\n\"Hum,\" he said, after he had listened to the voice in the cellar.\n\"This is something to be cautious over.\"\n\n\"If the people of this house do not come soon to bear witness of my\nconquest,\" said the voice in tones of thunder, \"I'll lead this Dragon\nthrough every chamber of it myself.\"\n\n\"Damnum absque injuria!\" shrieked Sir Godfrey, and uttered much more\nhorrible language entirely unfit for general use. \"What the Jeofailes\ndoes the varlet mean by threatening an Englishman in his own house? I\nshould like to know who lives here? I should like to know who I am?\"\n\nThe Baron flew down the entry in a rage. He ran to his bedside and\npulled his sword from under the pillows where he always kept it at\nnight with his sun-dial.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"We shall see who is master of this house,\" he said. \"I am not going\nto--does he suppose anybody that pleases can come carting their\ndragons through my premises? Get up! Get up! Every one!\" he shouted,\nhurrying along the hall with the sword in his right hand and a lantern\nin his left. His slippers were only half on, so they made a slithering\nand slapping over the floor; and his speed was such that the quilted\nred dressing-gown filled with the wind and spread behind him till he\nlooked like a huge new sort of bird or an eccentric balloon. Up and\ndown in all quarters of the house went Sir Godfrey, pounding against\nevery shut door. Out they came. Mistletoe from her closet, squeaking.\nWhelpdale from under his bed. The Baron allowed him time to put on a\npair of breeches wrong side out. The cook came, and you could hear her\npanting all the way down from the attic. Out came the nine house-maids\nwith hair in curl-papers. The seven footmen followed. Meeson and\nWelsby had forgotten their wigs. The coachman and grooms and\nstable-boys came in horse-blankets and boots. And last in the\nprocession, old Popham, one calf securely strapped on, and the other\ndangling disgracefully. Breathless they huddled behind the Baron, who\nstrode to the cellar, where he flung the door open. Over in a corner\nwas a hideous monster, and every man fell against his neighbour and\nshrieked. At which the monster roared most alarmingly, and all fell\ntogether again. Young Geoffrey stood in the middle of the cellar, and\nsaid not a word. One end of a chain was in his hand, and he waited\nmighty stiff for the Baron to speak. But when he saw Miss Elaine come\nstealing in after the rest so quiet and with her eyes fixed upon him,\nhis own eyes shone wonderfully.\n\nAt the sight of the Dragon, Sir Godfrey forgot his late excitement,\nand muttered \"Bless my soul!\" Then he stared at the beast for some\ntime.\n\n\"Can--can't he do anything?\" he inquired.\n\n\"No,\" said Geoffrey shortly; \"he can't.\"\n\n\"Not fly up at one, for instance?\"\n\n\"I have broken his wing,\" replied the youth.\n\n\"I--I'd like to look at him. Never saw one before,\" said the Baron;\nand he took two steps. Then gingerly he moved another step.\n\n\"Take care!\" Geoffrey cried, with rapid alarm.\n\nThe monster moved, and from his nostrils (as it seemed) shot a plume\nof flame.\n\nPopham clutched the cook, and the nine house-maids sank instantly into\nthe arms of the seven footmen without the slightest regard to how\nunsatisfactorily nine goes into seven.\n\n\"Good heavens!\" said the Baron, getting behind a hogshead, \"what a\nbrute!\"\n\n\"Perhaps it might be useful if I excommunicated him,\" said the Rev.\nHucbald, who had come in rather late, with his clerical frock-coat\nbuttoned over his pyjamas.\n\n\"Pooh!\" said the Baron. \"As if he'd care for that.\"\n\n\"Very few men can handle a dragon,\" said Geoffrey, unconcernedly, and\nstroked his upper lip, where a kindly-disposed person might see there\nwas going to be a moustache some day.\n\n\"I don't know exactly what you mean to imply by that, young man,\" said\nthe Baron, coming out from behind the hogshead and puffing somewhat\npompously.\n\n\"Why, zounds!\" he exclaimed, \"I left you locked up this afternoon,\nand securely. How came you here?\"\n\nGeoffrey coughed, for it was an awkward inquiry.\n\n\"Answer me without so much throat-clearing,\" said the Baron.\n\n\"I'll clear my throat as it pleases me,\" replied Geoffrey hotly. \"How\nI came here is no affair of yours that I can see. But ask Father\nAnselm himself, and he will tell you.\" This was a happy thought, and\nthe youth threw a look at the Dragon, who nodded slightly. \"I have a\nquestion to ask you, sir,\" Geoffrey continued, taking a tone and\nmanner more polite. Then he pointed to the Dragon with his sword, and\nwas silent.\n\n\"Well?\" said Sir Godfrey, \"don't keep me waiting.\"\n\n\"I fear your memory's short, sir. By your word proclaimed this morning\nthe man who brought you this Dragon should have your daughter to wife\nif she--if she----\"\n\n\"Ha!\" said the Baron. \"To be sure. Though it was hasty. Hum! Had I\nforeseen the matter would be so immediately settled--she's a great\nprize for any lad--and you're not hurt either. One should be hurt for\nsuch a reward. You seem entirely sound of limb and without a scratch.\nA great prize.\"\n\n\"There's the Dragon,\" replied Geoffrey, \"and here am I.\"\n\nNow Sir Godfrey was an honourable man. When he once had given his\nword, you could hold him to it. That is very uncommon to-day,\nparticularly in the matter of contracts. He gathered his dressing-gown\nabout him, and looked every inch a parent. \"Elaine,\" he said, \"my\ndear?\"\n\n\"Oh, papa!\" murmured that young woman in a die-away voice.\n\nGeoffrey had just time to see the look in her brown eye as she turned\nher head away. And his senses reeled blissfully, and his brain blew\nout like a candle, and he ceased to be a man who could utter speech.\nHe stood stock-still with his gaze fixed upon Elaine. The nine\nhouse-maids looked at the young couple with many sympathetic though\nrespectful sighings, and the seven footmen looked comprehensively at\nthe nine house-maids.\n\nSir Godfrey smiled, and very kindly. \"Ah, well,\" he said, \"once I--but\ntush! You're a brave lad, and I knew your father well. I'll consent,\nof course. But if you don't mind, I'll give you rather a quick\nblessing this evening. 'Tis growing colder. Come here, Elaine. Come\nhere, sir. There! Now, I hate delay in these matters. You shall be\nmarried to-morrow. Hey? What? You don't object, I suppose? Then why\ndid you jump? To-morrow, Christmas Day, and every church-bell in the\ncounty shall ring three times more than usual. Once for the holy\nFeast, and may the Lord bless it always! and once for my girl's\nwedding. And once for the death and destruction of the Dragon of\nWantley.\"\n\n\"Hurrah!\" said the united household.\n\n\"We'll have a nuptials that shall be the talk of our grandchildren's\nchildren, and after them. We'll have all the people to see. And we'll\nbuild the biggest pile of fagots that can be cut from my timber, and\nthe Dragon shall be chained on the top of it, and we'll cremate him\nlike an Ancient,--only alive! We'll cremate the monster alive!\"\n\nElaine jumped. Geoffrey jumped. The chain round the Dragon loudly\nclanked.\n\n\"Why--do you not find this a pleasant plan?\" asked the Baron,\nsurprised.\n\n\"It seems to me, sir,\" stuttered Geoffrey, beating his brains for\nevery next word, \"it seems to me a monstrous pity to destroy this\nDragon so. He is a rare curiosity.\"\n\n\"Did you expect me to clap him in a box-stall and feed him?\" inquired\nthe Baron with scorn.\n\n\"Why, no, sir. But since it is I who have tracked, stalked, and taken\nhim with the help of no other huntsman,\" said Geoffrey, \"I make bold\nto think the laws of sport vest the title to him in me.\"\n\n\"No such thing,\" said Sir Godfrey. \"You have captured him in my\ncellar. I know a little law, I hope.\"\n\n\"The law about wild beasts in Poictiers----\" Geoffrey began.\n\n\"What care I for your knavish and perverted foreign legalities over\nthe sea?\" snorted Sir Godfrey. \"This is England. And our Common Law\nsays you have trespassed.\"\n\n\"My dear sir,\" said Geoffrey, \"this wild beast came into your premises\nafter I had marked him.\"\n\n\"Don't dear sir me!\" shouted the Baron. \"Will you hear the law for\nwhat I say? I tell you this Dragon's my dragon. Don't I remember how\ntrespass was brought against Ralph de Coventry, over in Warwickshire?\nWho did no more than you have done. And they held him. And there it\nwas but a little pheasant his hawk had chased into another's\nwarren--and you've chased a dragon, so the offence is greater.\"\n\n\"But if--\" remonstrated the youth, \"if a fox----\"\n\n\"Fox me no foxes! Here is the case of Ralph de Coventry,\" replied Sir\nGodfrey, looking learned, and seating himself on a barrel of beer.\n\"Ralph pleaded before the Judge saying, 'et nous lessamus nostre\nfaucon voler a luy, et il le pursuy en le garrein,'--'tis just your\nposition, only 'twas you that pursued and not your falcon, which does\nnot in the least distinguish the cases.\"\n\n\"But,\" said Geoffrey again, \"the Dragon started not on your premises.\"\n\n\"No matter for that; for you have pursued him into my warren, that is,\nmy cellar, my enclosed cellar, where you had no business to be. And\nthe Court told Ralph no matter 'que le feisant leva hors de le\ngarrein, vostre faucon luy pursuy en le garrein.' So there's good\nsound English law, and none of your foppish outlandishries in Latin,\"\nfinished the Baron, vastly delighted at being able to display the\nlittle learning that he had. For you see, very few gentlemen in those\nbenighted days knew how to speak the beautiful language of the law so\nfluently as that.\n\n\"And besides,\" continued Sir Godfrey suddenly, \"there is a contract.\"\n\n\"What contract?\" asked Geoffrey.\n\n\"A good and valid one. When I said this morning that I would give my\ndaughter to the man who brought me the Dragon alive or dead, did I say\nI would give him the Dragon too? So choose which you will take, for\nboth you cannot have.\"\n\nAt this Elaine turned pale as death, and Geoffrey stood dumb.\n\nHad anybody looked at the Dragon, it was easy to see the beast was\nmuch agitated.\n\n\"Choose!\" said Sir Godfrey. \"'Tis getting too cold to stay here. What?\nYou hesitate between my daughter and a miserable reptile? I thought\nthe lads of France were more gallant. Come, sir! which shall it be?\nThe lady or the Dragon?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Geoffrey, and his blood and heart stood still (and so did\nElaine's, and so did another person's), \"I--I--think I will choose the\nl--lady.\"\n\n\"Hurrah!\" cheered the household once more.\n\n\"Oh, Lord!\" said the Dragon, but nobody heard him.\n\n\"Indeed!\" observed Sir Godfrey. \"And now we'll chain him in my\nbear-pit till morning, and at noon he shall be burned alive by the\nblazing fagots. Let us get some sleep now.\"\n\nThe cloud of slimly-clad domestics departed with slow steps, and many\na look of fear cast backward at the captured monster.\n\n\"This Dragon, sir,\" said Geoffrey, wondering at his own voice, \"will\ndie of thirst in that pit. Bethink you how deep is his habit of\ndrinking.\"\n\n\"Ha! I have often bethought me,\" retorted Sir Godfrey, rolling his\neyes over the empty barrels. \"But here! I am a man of some heart, I\nhope.\"\n\nHe seized up a bucket and ran to the hogshead containing his\ndaughter's native cowslip wine.\n\n\"There!\" he observed when the bucket was pretty well filled. \"Put that\nin to moisten his last hours.\"\n\nThen the Baron led the way round the Manor to the court-yard where the\nbear-pit was. His daughter kept pace with him not easily, for the\nexcellent gentleman desired to be a decent distance away from the\nDragon, whom young Geoffrey dragged along in the rear.\n\n[Illustration: HVCKBALD BELIEVES HE WILL TAKE JVST A LITTLE SIP]\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER IX\n\n               Leaues much Room for guessing about Ch. X\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nAs they proceeded towards the bear-pit, having some distance to go,\ngood-humour and benevolence began to rise up in the heart of Sir\nGodfrey.\n\n\"This is a great thing!\" he said to Miss Elaine. \"Ha! an important and\njoyful occurrence. The news of it will fly far.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" the young lady replied, but without enthusiasm. \"The cattle\nwill be safe now.\"\n\n\"The cattle, child! my Burgundy! Think of that!\"\n\n\"Yes, papa.\"\n\n\"The people will come,\" continued the Baron, \"from all sides\nto-morrow--why, it's to-morrow now!\" he cried. \"From all sides they\nwill come to my house to see my Dragon. And I shall permit them to see\nhim. They shall see him cooked alive, if they wish. It is a very\nproper curiosity. The brute had a wide reputation.\"\n\nTo hear himself spoken of in the past tense, as we speak of the dead,\nwas not pleasant to Sir Francis, walking behind Geoffrey on all fours.\n\n\"I shall send for Father Anselm and his monks,\" the Baron went on.\n\nHearing this Geoffrey started.\n\n\"What need have we of them, sir?\" he inquired. To send for Father\nAnselm! It was getting worse and worse.\n\n\"Need of Father Anselm?\" repeated Sir Godfrey. \"Of course I shall need\nhim. I want the parson to tell me how he came to change his mind and\nlet you out.\"\n\n\"Oh, to be sure,\" said Geoffrey, mechanically. His thoughts were\nreeling helplessly together, with no one thing uppermost.\n\n\"Not that I disapprove it. I have changed my own mind upon occasions.\nBut 'twas sudden, after his bundle of sagacity about Crusades and\nvisions of my ancestor and what not over there in the morning. Ha! ha!\nThese clericals are no more consistent than another person. I'll\nnever let the Father forget this.\" And the Baron chuckled. \"Besides,\"\nhe said, \"'tis suitable that these monks should be present at the\nburning. This Dragon was a curse, and curses are somewhat of a church\nmatter.\"\n\n\"True,\" said Geoffrey, for lack of a better reply.\n\n\"Why, bless my soul!\" shouted the Baron, suddenly wheeling round to\nElaine at his side, so that the cowslip wine splashed out of the\nbucket he carried, \"it's my girl's wedding-day too! I had clean\nforgot. Bless my soul!\"\n\n\"Y--yes, papa,\" faltered Elaine.\n\n\"And you, young fellow!\" her father called out to Geoffrey with lusty\nheartiness. \"You're a lucky rogue, sir.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" said Geoffrey, but not gayly. He was wondering how it felt\nto be going mad. Amid his whirling thoughts burned the one longing to\nhide Elaine safe in his arms and tell her it would all come right\nsomehow. A silence fell on the group as they walked. Even to the\nBaron, who was not a close observer, the present reticence of these\ntwo newly-betrothed lovers was apparent. He looked from one to the\nother, but in the face of neither could he see beaming any of the soft\ntransports which he considered were traditionally appropriate to the\nhour. \"Umph!\" he exclaimed; \"it was never like this in my day.\" Then\nhis thoughts went back some forty years, and his eyes mellowed from\nwithin.\n\n\"We'll cook the Dragon first,\" continued the old gentleman, \"and then,\nsir, you and my girl shall be married. Ha! ha! a great day for\nWantley!\" The Baron swung his bucket, and another jet of its contents\nslid out. He was growing more and more delighted with himself and his\ndaughter and her lover and everybody in the world. \"And you're a stout\nrogue, too, sir,\" he said. \"Built near as well as an Englishman, I\nthink. And that's an excellent thing in a husband.\"\n\nThe Baron continued to talk, now and then almost falling in the snow,\nbut not permitting such slight mishaps to interrupt his discourse,\nwhich was addressed to nobody and had a general nature, touching upon\ndragons, marriages, Crusades, and Burgundy. Could he have seen\nGeoffrey's more and more woe-begone and distracted expression, he\nwould have concluded his future son-in-law was suffering from some\nsudden and momentous bodily ill.\n\nThe young man drew near the Dragon. \"What shall we do?\" he said in a\nwhisper. \"Can I steal the keys of the pit? Can we say the Dragon\nescaped?\" The words came in nervous haste, wholly unlike the bold\ndeliberateness with which the youth usually spoke. It was plain he was\nat the end of his wits.\n\n\"Why, what ails thee?\" inquired Sir Francis in a calm and unmoved\nvoice. \"This is a simple matter.\"\n\nHis tone was so quiet that Geoffrey stared in amazement.\n\n\"But yonder pit!\" he said. \"We are ruined!\"\n\n\"Not at all,\" Sir Francis replied. \"Truly thou art a deep thinker!\nFirst a woman and now thine enemy has to assist thy distress.\"\n\nHe put so much hatred and scorn into his tones that Geoffrey flamed\nup. \"Take care!\" he muttered angrily.\n\n\"That's right!\" the prisoner said, laughing dryly. \"Draw thy sword\nand split our secret open. It will be a fine wedding-day thou'lt have\nthen. Our way out of this is plain enough. Did not the Baron say that\nFather Anselm was to be present at the burning? He shall be present.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the youth. \"But how to get out of the pit? And how can\nthere be a dragon to burn if thou art to be Father Anselm? And\nhow----\" he stopped.\n\n\"I am full of pity for thy brains,\" said Sir Francis.\n\n\"Here's the pit!\" said the voice of Sir Godfrey. \"Bring him along.\"\n\n\"Hark!\" said Sir Francis to Geoffrey. \"Thou must go to Oyster-le-Main\nwith a message. Darest thou go alone?\"\n\n\"If I dare?\" retorted Geoffrey, proudly.\n\n\"It is well. Come to the pit when the Baron is safe in the house.\"\n\nNow they were at the iron door. Here the ground was on a level with\nthe bottom of the pit, but sloped steeply up to the top of its walls\nelsewhere, so that one could look down inside. The Baron unlocked the\ndoor and entered with his cowslip wine, which (not being a very\npotent decoction) began to be covered with threads of ice as soon as\nit was set down. The night was growing more bitter as its frosty hours\nwore on; for the storm was departed, and the wind fallen to silence,\nand the immense sky clean and cold with the shivering glitter of the\nstars.\n\nThen Geoffrey led the Dragon into the pit. This was a rude and\ndesolate hole, and its furniture of that extreme simplicity common to\nbear-pits in those barbarous times. From the middle of the stone floor\nrose the trunk of a tree, ragged with lopped boughs and at its top\nforking into sundry limbs possible to sit among. An iron trough was\nthere near a heap of stale greasy straw, and both were shapeless white\nlumps beneath the snow. The chiselled and cemented walls rose round in\na circle and showed no crevice for the nails of either man or bear to\nclimb by. Many times had Orlando Crumb and Furioso Bun observed this\nwith sadness, and now Sir Francis observed it also. He took into his\nchest a big swallow of air, and drove it out again between his teeth\nwith a weary hissing.\n\n\"I will return at once,\" Geoffrey whispered as he was leaving.\n\nThen the door was shut to, and Sir Francis heard the lock grinding as\nthe key was turned. Then he heard the Baron speaking to Geoffrey.\n\n\"I shall take this key away,\" he said; \"there's no telling what\nwandering fool might let the monster out. And now there's but little\ntime before dawn. Elaine, child, go to your bed. This excitement has\nplainly tired you. I cannot have my girl look like that when she's a\nbride to-day. And you too, sir,\" he added, surveying Geoffrey, \"look a\ntrifle out of sorts. Well, I am not surprised. A dragon is no joke.\nCome to my study.\" And he took Geoffrey's arm.\n\n\"Oh, no!\" said the youth. \"I cannot. I--I must change my dress.\"\n\n\"Pooh, sir! I shall send to the tavern for your kit. Come to my study.\nYou are pale. We'll have a little something hot. Aha! Something hot!\"\n\n\"But I think----\" Geoffrey began.\n\n\"Tush!\" said the Baron. \"You shall help me with the wedding\ninvitations.\"\n\n[Illustration: Sir Francis decideth to go down agayne]\n\n\"Sir!\" said Geoffrey haughtily, \"I know nothing of writing and such\nlow habits.\"\n\n\"Why no more do I, of course,\" replied Sir Godfrey; \"nor would I\nsuspect you or any good gentleman of the practice, though I have made\nmy mark upon an indenture in the presence of witnesses.\"\n\n\"A man may do that with propriety,\" assented the youth. \"But I cannot\ncome with you now, sir. 'Tis not possible.\"\n\n\"But I say that you shall!\" cried the Baron in high good-humour. \"I\ncan mull Malvoisie famously, and will presently do so for you. 'Tis to\nhelp me seal the invitations that I want you. My Chaplain shall write\nthem. Come.\"\n\nHe locked Geoffrey's arm in his own, and strode quickly forward.\nFeeling himself dragged away, Geoffrey turned his head despairingly\nback towards the pit.\n\n\"Oh, he's safe enough in there,\" said Sir Godfrey. \"No need to watch\nhim.\"\n\nSir Francis had listened to this conversation with rising dismay. And\nnow he quickly threw off the crocodile hide and climbed up the tree as\nthe bears had often done before him. It came almost to a level with\nthe wall's rim, but the radius was too great a distance for jumping.\n\n\"I should break my leg,\" he said, and came down the tree again, as the\nbears had likewise often descended.\n\nThe others were now inside the house. Elaine with a sinking heart\nretired to her room, and her father after summoning the Rev. Hucbald\ntook Geoffrey into his study. The Chaplain followed with a bunch of\ngoose-quills and a large ink-horn, and seated himself at a table,\nwhile the Baron mixed some savoury stuff, going down his private\nstaircase into the buttery to get the spice and honey necessary.\n\n\"Here's to the health of all, and luck to-day,\" said the Baron; and\nGeoffrey would have been quite happy if an earthquake had come and\naltered all plans for the morning. Still he went through the form of\nclinking goblets. But his heart ached, and his eyes grew hot as he sat\ndismal and lonely away from his girl.\n\n\"Whom shall we ask to the wedding?\" queried the Rev. Hucbald, rubbing\nhis hands and looking at the pitcher in which Sir Godfrey had mixed\nthe beverage.\n\n\"Ask the whole county,\" said Sir Godfrey. \"The more the merrier. My\nboy Roland will be here to-morrow. He'll find his sister has got ahead\nof him. Have some,\" he added, holding the pitcher to the Rev. Hucbald.\n\n\"I do believe I will take just a little sip,\" returned the divine.\n\"Thanks! ah--most delicious, Baron! A marriage on Christmas Day,\" he\nadded, \"is--ahem!--highly irregular. But under the unusual, indeed the\ntruly remarkable, circumstances, I make no doubt that the Pope----\"\n\n\"Drat him!\" said Sir Godfrey; at which the Chaplain smiled\nreproachfully, and shook a long transparent taper finger at his\npatron in a very playful manner, saying, \"Baron! now, Baron!\"\n\n\"My boy Roland's learning to be a knight over at my uncle Mortmain's,\"\ncontinued Sir Godfrey, pouring Geoffrey another goblet. \"You'll like\nhim.\"\n\nBut Geoffrey's thoughts were breeding more anxiety in him every\nmoment.\n\n\"I'll get the sealing-wax,\" observed the Baron, and went to a cabinet.\n\n\"This room is stifling,\" cried Geoffrey. \"I shall burst soon, I\nthink.\"\n\n\"It's my mulled Malvoisie you're not accustomed to,\" Sir Godfrey said,\nas he rummaged in the cabinet. \"Open the window and get some fresh\nair, my lad. Now where the deuce is my family seal?\"\n\nAs Geoffrey opened the window, a soft piece of snow flew through the\nair and dropped lightly on his foot. He looked quickly and perceived a\nman's shadow jutting into the moonlight from an angle in the wall.\nImmediately he plunged out through the casement, which was not very\nhigh.\n\n\"Merciful powers!\" said the Rev. Hucbald, letting fall his quill and\nspoiling the first invitation, \"what an impulsive young man! Why, he\nhas run clean round the corner.\"\n\n\"'Tis all my Malvoisie,\" said the Baron, hugely delighted, and\nhurrying to the window. \"Come back when you're sober!\" he shouted\nafter Geoffrey with much mirth. Then he shut the window.\n\n\"These French heads never can weather English brews,\" he remarked to\nthe Chaplain. \"But I'll train the boy in time. He is a rare good lad.\nNow, to work.\"\n\nOut in the snow, Geoffrey with his sword drawn came upon Hubert.\n\n\"Thou mayest sheathe that knife,\" said the latter.\n\n\"And be thy quarry?\" retorted Geoffrey.\n\n\"I have come too late for that!\" Hubert answered.\n\n\"Thou hast been to the bear-pit, then?\"\n\n\"Oh, aye!\"\n\n\"There's big quarry there!\" observed Geoffrey, tauntingly. \"Quite a\nroyal bird.\"\n\n\"So royal the male hawk could not bring it down by himself, I hear,\"\nHubert replied. \"Nay, there's no use in waxing wroth, friend! My\ndeath now would clap thee in a tighter puzzle than thou art in\nalready--and I should be able to laugh down at thee from a better\nworld,\" he added, mimicking the priestly cadence, and looking at\nGeoffrey half fierce and half laughing.\n\nHe was but an apprentice at robbery and violence, and in the bottom of\nhis heart, where some honesty still was, he liked Geoffrey well. \"Time\npresses,\" he continued. \"I must go. One thing thou must do. Let not\nthat pit be opened till the monks of Oyster-le-Main come here. We\nshall come before noon.\"\n\n\"I do not understand,\" said Geoffrey.\n\n[Illustration: Brother Hvbert goeth back to Oyster-le-Main for ye\nlast Time]\n\n\"That's unimportant,\" answered Hubert. \"Only play thy part. 'Tis a\nsimple thing to keep a door shut. Fail, and the whole of us are\nundone. Farewell.\"\n\n\"Nay, this is some foul trick,\" Geoffrey declared, and laid his hand\non Hubert.\n\nBut the other shook his head sadly. \"Dost suppose,\" he said, \"that we\nshould have abstained from any trick that's known to the accumulated\nwisdom of man? Our sport is up.\"\n\n\"'Tis true,\" Geoffrey said, musingly, \"we hold all of you in the\nhollow of one hand.\"\n\n\"Thou canst make a present of us to the hangman in twenty minutes if\nthou choosest,\" said Hubert.\n\n\"Though 'twould put me in quite as evil case.\"\n\n\"Ho! what's the loss of a woman compared with death?\" Hubert\nexclaimed.\n\n\"Thou'lt know some day,\" the young knight said, eying Hubert with a\ncertain pity; \"that is, if ever thou art lucky to love truly.\"\n\n\"And is it so much as that?\" murmured Hubert wistfully. \"'Twas good\nfortune for thee and thy sweetheart I did not return to look for my\nmaster while he was being taken to the pit,\" he continued; \"we could\nhave stopped all your mouths till the Day of Judgment at least.\"\n\n\"Wouldst thou have slain a girl?\" asked Geoffrey, stepping back.\n\n\"Not I, indeed! But for my master I would not be so sure. And he says\nI'll come as far as that in time,\" added the apprentice with a shade\nof bitterness.\n\n\"Thou art a singular villain,\" said Geoffrey, \"and wonderfully frank\nspoken.\"\n\n\"And so thou'rt to be married?\" Hubert said gently.\n\n\"By this next noon, if all goes well!\" exclaimed the lover with\nardour.\n\n\"Heigho!\" sighed Hubert, turning to go, \"'twill be a merry Christmas\nfor somebody.\"\n\n\"Give me thy hand,\" cried Geoffrey, feeling universally hearty.\n\n\"No,\" replied the freebooter; \"what meaning would there be in that? I\nwould sever thy jugular vein in a moment if that would mend the broken\nfortunes of my chief. Farewell, however. Good luck attend thee.\"\n\nThe eyes of both young men met, and without unkindness in them.\n\n\"But I am satisfied with my calling,\" Hubert asserted, repudiating\nsome thought that he imagined was lurking in Geoffrey's look. \"Quite\ncontent! It's very dull to be respectable. Look! the dawn will\ndiscover us.\"\n\n\"But this plan?\" cried Geoffrey, hastening after him; \"I know\nnothing.\"\n\n\"Thou needest know nothing. Keep the door of the pit shut. Farewell.\"\n\nAnd Geoffrey found himself watching the black form of Hubert dwindle\nagainst the white rises of the ground. He walked towards the tavern in\nmiserable uncertainty, for the brief gust of elation had passed from\nhis heart. Then he returned irresolute, and looked into the pit. There\nwas Sir Francis, dressed in the crocodile.\n\n\"Come in, come in, young fellow! Ha! ha! how's thy head?\" The Baron\nwas at the window, calling out and beckoning with vigour.\n\nGeoffrey returned to the study. There was no help for it.\n\n\"We have written fifty-nine already!\" said the Rev. Hucbald.\n\nBut the youth cast a dull eye upon the growing heap, and sealed them\nvery badly. What pleasure was it to send out invitations to his own\nwedding that might never be coming off?\n\nAs for Hubert out in the night, he walked slowly through the wide\nwhite country. And as he went across the cold fields and saw how the\nstars were paling out, and cast long looks at the moon setting across\nthe smooth snow, the lad's eyes filled so that the moon twinkled and\nshot rays askew in his sight. He thought how the good times of\nOyster-le-Main were ended, and he thought of Miss Elaine so far beyond\nthe reach of such as he, and it seemed to him that he was outside the\ncomfortable world.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER X\n\n                 The Great White Christmas at Wantley.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nNow are all the people long awake and out of their beds. Wantley Manor\nis stirring busily in each quarter of the house and court, and the\nwhole county likewise is agog. By seven o'clock this morning it was\nnoised in every thatched cottage and in every gabled hall that the\ngreat Dragon had been captured. Some said by Saint George in person,\nwho appeared riding upon a miraculous white horse and speaking a\ntongue that nobody could understand, wherefore it was held to be the\nlanguage common in Paradise. Some declared Saint George had nothing to\ndo with it, and that this was the pious achievement of Father Anselm.\nOthers were sure Miss Elaine had fulfilled the legend and conquered\nthe monster entirely by herself. One or two, hearing the event had\ntaken place in Sir Godfrey's wine-cellar, said they thought the Baron\nhad done it,--and were immediately set down as persons of unsound\nmind. But nobody mentioned Geoffrey at all, until the Baron's\ninvitations, requesting the honour of various people's presence at the\nmarriage of his daughter Elaine to that young man, were received; and\nthat was about ten o'clock, the ceremony being named for twelve that\nday in the family chapel. Sir Godfrey intended the burning of the\nDragon to take place not one minute later than half-past eleven.\nAccordingly, besides the invitation to the chapel, all friends and\nneighbours whose position in the county or whose intimacy with the\nfamily entitled them to a recognition less formal and more personal,\nreceived a second card which ran as follows: \"Sir Godfrey Disseisin at\nhome Wednesday morning, December the twenty-fifth, from half after\neleven until the following day. Dancing; also a Dragon will be\nroasted. R. S. V. P.\" The Disseisin crest with its spirited motto,\n\"Saute qui peult,\" originated by the venerable Primer Disseisin,\nfollowed by his son Tortious Disseisin, and borne with so much renown\nin and out of a hundred battles by a thousand subsequent Disseisins,\nornamented the top left-hand corner.\n\n\"I think we shall have but few refusals,\" said the Rev. Hucbald to Sir\nGodfrey. \"Not many will be prevented by previous engagements, I\nopine.\" And the Chaplain smiled benignly, rubbing his hands. He had\npublished the banns of matrimony three times in a lump before\nbreakfast. \"Which is rather unusual,\" he said; \"but under the\ncircumstances we shall easily obtain a dispensation.\"\n\n\"In providing such an entertainment for the county as this will be,\"\nremarked the Baron, \"I feel I have performed my duty towards society\nfor some time to come. No one has had a dragon at a private house\nbefore me, I believe.\"\n\n\"Oh, surely not,\" simpered the sleek Hucbald. \"Not even Lady Jumping\nJack.\"\n\n\"Fiddle!\" grunted the Baron. \"She indeed! Fandangoes!\"\n\n\"She's very pious,\" protested the Rev. Hucbald, whom the lady\nsometimes asked to fish lunches in Lent.\n\n\"Fandangoes!\" repeated the Baron. He had once known her exceedingly\nwell, but she pursued variety at all expense, even his. As for\nrefusals, the Chaplain was quite right. There were none. Nobody had a\nprevious engagement--or kept it, if they had.\n\n\"Good gracious, Rupert!\" (or Cecil, or Chandos, as it might be,) each\ndame in the county had exclaimed to her lord on opening the envelope\nbrought by private hand from Wantley, \"we're asked to the Disseisins\nto see a dragon,--and his daughter married.\"\n\n\"By heaven, Muriel, we'll go!\" the gentleman invariably replied, under\nthe impression that Elaine was to marry the Dragon, which would be a\nshow worth seeing. The answers came flying back to Wantley every\nminute or two, most of them written in such haste that you could only\nguess they were acceptances. And those individuals who lived so far\naway across the county that the invitations reached them too late to\nbe answered, immediately rang every bell in the house and ordered the\ncarriage in frantic tones.\n\nOf _course_ nobody kept any engagement. Sir Guy Vol-au-Vent (and none\nbut a most abandoned desperado or advanced thinker would be willing to\ndo such a thing on Christmas) had accepted an invitation to an ambush\nat three for the slaying of Sir Percy de Resistance. But the ambush\nwas put off till a more convenient day. Sir Thomas de Brie had been\ngoing to spend his Christmas at a cock-fight in the Count de\nGorgonzola's barn. But he remarked to his man Edward, who brought the\ntrap to the door, that the Count de Gorgonzola might go ---- Never\nmind what he remarked. It was not nice; though oddly enough it was\nexactly the same remark that the Count had made about Sir Thomas on\ntelling his own man James to drive to Wantley and drop the cock-fight.\nAll these gentlemen, as soon as they heard the great news, started for\nthe Manor with the utmost speed.\n\n[Illustration: Sir Thomas de Brie hastens to accept the Baron's polite\nInuitation]\n\nNor was it the quality alone who were so unanimous in their feelings.\nThe Tenantry (to whom Sir Godfrey had extended a very hospitable\nbidding to come and they should find standing-room and good meat and\nbeer in the court-yard) went nearly mad. From every quarter of the\nhorizon they came plunging and ploughing along. The sun blazed down\nout of a sky whence a universal radiance seemed to beat upon the\nblinding white. Could you have mounted up bird-fashion over the\ncountry, you would have seen the Manor like the centre of some great\nwheel, with narrow tracks pointing in to it from the invisible rim of\na circle, paths wide and narrow, converging at the gate, trodden\nacross the new snow from anywhere and everywhere; and moving along\nthese like ants, all the inhabitants for miles around. And through\nthe wide splendour of winter no wind blowing, but the sound of chiming\nbells far and near, clear frozen drops of music in the brittle air.\n\nOld Gaffer Piers, the ploughman, stumped along, \"pretty well for\neighty, thanky,\" as he somewhat snappishly answered to the neighbours\nwho out-walked him on the road. They would get there first.\n\n\"Wonderful old man,\" they said as they went on their way, and quickly\nresumed their speculations upon the Dragon's capture. Farmer John\nStiles came driving his ox-team and snuffling, for it was pretty cold,\nand his handkerchief at home. Upon his wagon on every part, like\nswallows, hung as many of his relations as could get on. His mother,\nwho had been Lucy Baker, and grandmother Cecilia Kempe, and a litter\nof cousin Thorpes. But his step-father Lewis Gay and the children of\nthe half-blood were not asked to ride; farmer Stiles had bitterly\nresented the second marriage. This family knew all the particulars\nconcerning the Dragon, for they had them from the cook's second cousin\nwho was courting Bridget Stiles. They knew how Saint George had waked\nFather Anselm up and put him on a white horse, and how the Abbot had\nthus been able to catch the Dragon by his tail in the air just as he\nwas flying away with Miss Elaine, and how at that the white horse had\nturned into a young man who had been bewitched by the Dragon, and was\ngoing to marry Miss Elaine immediately.\n\nOn the front steps, shaking hands with each person who came, was Sir\nGodfrey. He had dressed himself excellently for the occasion;\nsomething between a heavy father and an old beau, with a beautiful\npart down the back of his head where the hair was. Geoffrey stood\nbeside him.\n\n\"My son-in-law that's to be,\" Sir Godfrey would say. And the gentry\nwelcomed the young man, while the tenants bobbed him respectful\nsalutations.\n\n\"You're one of us. Glad to know you,\" said Sir Thomas de Brie,\nsurveying the lad with approval.\n\nLady Jumping Jack held his hand for a vanishing moment you could\nhardly make sure of. \"I had made up my mind to hate you for robbing me\nof my dearest girl,\" she said, smiling gayly, and fixing him with her\nodd-looking eyes. \"But I see we're to be friends.\" Then she murmured a\nchoice nothing to the Baron, who snarled politely.\n\n\"Don't let her play you,\" said he to Geoffrey when the lady had moved\non. And he tapped the youth's shoulder familiarly.\n\n\"Oh, I've been through all that sort of thing over in Poictiers,\"\nGeoffrey answered with indifference.\n\n\"You're a rogue, sir, as I've told you before. Ha! Uncle Mortmain, how\nd'ye do? Yes, this is Geoffrey. Where's my boy Roland? Coming, is he?\nWell, he had better look sharp. It's after eleven, and I'll wait for\nnobody. How d'ye do, John Stiles? That bull you sold me 's costing\nthirty shillings a year in fences. You'll find something ready down by\nthose tables, I think.\"\n\nHark to that roar! The crowd jostled together in the court-yard, for\nit sounded terribly close.\n\n\"The Dragon's quite safe in the pit, good people,\" shouted Sir\nGodfrey. \"A few more minutes and you'll all see him.\"\n\nThe old gentleman continued welcoming the new arrivals, chatting\nheartily, with a joke for this one and a kind inquiry for the other.\nBut wretched Geoffrey! So the Dragon was to be seen in a few minutes!\nAnd where were the monks of Oyster-le-Main? Still, a bold face must be\nkept. He was thankful that Elaine, after the custom of brides, was\ninvisible. The youth's left hand rested upon the hilt of his sword; he\nwas in rich attire, and the curly hair that surrounded his forehead\nhad been carefully groomed. Half-way up the stone steps as he stood,\nhis blue eyes watching keenly for the monks, he was a figure that made\nmany a humble nymph turn tender glances upon him. Old Piers, the\nploughman, remained beside a barrel of running ale and drank his\nhealth all day. For he was a wonderful old man.\n\nHither and thither the domestics scurried swiftly, making\npreparations. Some were cooking rare pasties of grouse and ptarmigan,\ngoslings and dough-birds; some were setting great tables in-doors and\nout; and some were piling fagots for the Dragon's funeral pyre.\nPopham, with magnificent solemnity and a pair of new calves, gave\norders to Meeson and Welsby, and kept little Whelpdale panting for\nbreath with errands; while in and out, between everybody's legs, and\nover or under all obstacles, stalked the two ravens Croak James and\nCroak Elizabeth, a big white wedding-favour tied round the neck of\neach. To see these grave birds, none would have suspected how\nfrequently they had been in the mince-pies that morning, though Popham\nhad expressly ruled (in somewhat stilted language) that they should\n\"take nothink by their bills.\"\n\n\"Geoffrey,\" said the Baron, \"I think we'll begin. Popham, tell them to\nlight that fire there.\"\n\n\"The guests are still coming, sir,\" said Geoffrey.\n\n\"No matter. It is half after eleven.\" The Baron showed his sun-dial,\nand there was no doubt of it. \"Here, take the keys,\" he said, \"and\nbring the monster out for us.\"\n\n\"I'll go and put on my armour,\" suggested the young man. That would\ntake time; perhaps the monks might arrive.\n\n\"Why, the brute's chained. You need no armour. Nonsense!\"\n\n\"But think of my clothes in that pit, sir,--on my wedding-day.\"\n\n\"Pooh! That's the first sign of a Frenchman I've seen in you. Take the\nkeys, sir.\"\n\nThe crackle of the kindling fagots came to Geoffrey's ears. He saw the\nforty men with chains that were to haul the Dragon into the fire.\n\n\"But there's Father Anselm yet to come,\" he protested. \"Surely we wait\nfor him.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"I'll wait for nobody. He with his Crusades and rubbish! Haven't I got\nthis Dragon, and there's no Crusade?--Ah, Cousin Modus, glad you\ncould come over. Just in time. The sherry's to your left. Yes, it's a\nvery fine day. Yes, yes, this is Geoffrey my girl's to marry and all\nthat.--What do I care about Father Anselm?\" the old gentleman resumed\ntestily, when his cousin Modus had shuffled off. \"Come, sir.\"\n\nHe gave the keys into Geoffrey's unwilling hand, and ordered silence\nproclaimed.\n\n\"Hearken, good friends!\" said he, and all talk and going to and fro\nceased. The tenantry stood down in the court-yard, a mass of\nmotionless russet and yellow, every face watching the Baron. The\ngentry swarmed noiselessly out upon the steps behind him, their\nhandsome dresses bright against the Manor walls. There was a short\npause. Old Gaffer Piers made a slight disturbance falling over with\nhis cup of ale, but was quickly set on his feet by his neighbours. The\nsun blazed down, and the growling of the Dragon came from the pit.\n\n\"Yonder noise,\" pursued Sir Godfrey, \"speaks more to the point than I\ncould. I'll give you no speech.\" All loudly cheered at this.\n\n\"Don't you think,\" whispered the Rev. Hucbald in the Baron's ear,\n\"that a little something serious should be said on such an occasion? I\nshould like our brethren to be reminded----\"\n\n\"Fudge!\" said the Baron. \"For thirteen years,\" he continued, raising\nhis voice again, \"this Dragon has been speaking for himself. You all\nknow and I know how that has been. And now we are going to speak for\nourselves. And when he is on top of that fire he'll know how that is.\nGeoffrey, open the pit and get him out.\"\n\nAgain there was a cheer, but a short one, for the spell of expectancy\nwas on all. The young man descended into the court, and the air seemed\nto turn to a wavering mist as he looked up at the Manor windows\nseeking to spy Elaine's face at one of them. Was this to be the end?\nCould he kiss her one last good-by if disaster was in store for them\nafter all? Alas! no glimpse of her was to be seen as he moved along,\nhardly aware of his own steps, and the keys jingling lightly as he\nmoved. Through the crowd he passed, and a whispering ran in his wake\nfollowed by deeper silence than before. He reached the edge of the\npeople and crossed the open space beyond, passing the leaping blaze of\nthe fagots, and so drew near the iron door of the pit. The key went\nslowly into the lock. All shrank with dismay at the roar which rent\nthe air. Geoffrey paused with his hand gripping the key, and there\ncame a sound of solemn singing over the fields.\n\n\"The monks!\" murmured a few under their breath; and silence fell\nagain, each listening.\n\nMen's voices it was, and their chanting rose by one sudden step to a\nhigh note that was held for a moment, and then sank again, mellow like\nthe harmony of horns in a wood. Then over the ridge from\nOyster-le-Main the length of a slow procession began to grow. The gray\ngowns hung to the earth straight with scarce any waving as the men\nwalked. The heavy hoods reached over each face so there was no telling\nits features. None in the court-yard spoke at all, as the brooding\nfigures passed in under the gateway and proceeded to the door of the\nbear-pit, singing always. Howlings that seemed born of terror now rose\nfrom the imprisoned monster; and many thought, \"evidently the evil\nbeast cannot endure the sound of holy words.\"\n\nElaine in her white dress now gazed from an upper window, seeing her\nlover with his enemies drawing continually closer around him.\n\nPerhaps it was well for him that his death alone would not have served\nto lock their secret up again; that the white maiden in the window is\nready to speak the word and direct instant vengeance on them and their\ndragon if any ill befall that young man who stands by the iron door.\n\nThe song of the monks ended. Sir Godfrey on the steps was wondering\nwhy Father Anselm did not stand out from the rest of the gray people\nand explain his wishes. \"Though he shall not interrupt the sport,\nwhatever he says,\" thought the Baron, and cast on the group of holy\nmen a less hospitable eye than had beamed on his other guests.\nGeoffrey over at the iron door, surrounded by the motionless figures,\nscanned each hood narrowly and soon met the familiar eyes of Hubert.\nHubert's gown, he noticed, bulged out in a manner ungainly and\nmysterious. \"Open the door,\" whispered that youth. At once Geoffrey\nbegan to turn the key. And at its grinding all held their breath, and\na quivering silence hung over the court. The hasty drops pattered down\nfrom the eaves from the snow that was melting on the roof. Then some\nstrip of metal inside the lock sprung suddenly, making a sharp song,\nand ceased. The crowd of monks pressed closer together as the iron\ndoor swung open.\n\n[Illustration: THE DRAGON MAKETH HIS LAST APPEARANCE]\n\nWhat did Geoffrey see? None but the monks could tell. Instantly a\nsingle roar more terrible than any burst out, and the huge horrible\nblack head and jaws of the monster reared into the view of Sir Godfrey\nand his guests. One instant the fearful vision in the door-way swayed\nwith a stiff strange movement over the knot of monks that surrounded\nit, then sank out of sight among them. There was a sound of jerking\nand fierce clanking of chains, mingled with loud chanting of pious\nsentences. Then a plume of spitting flame flared upward with a mighty\nroar, and the gray figures scattered right and left. There along the\nground lay the monster, shrivelled, twisted in dismal coils, and dead.\nClose beside his black body towered Father Anselm, smoothing the folds\nof his gray gown. Geoffrey was sheathing his sword and looking at\nHubert, whose dress bulged out no longer, but fitted him as usual.\n\n\"We have been vouchsafed a miracle,\" said Father Anselm quietly, to\nthe gaping spectators.\n\n\"There'll be no burning,\" said Geoffrey, pointing to the shrunken\nskin. But though he spoke so coolly, and repelled all besieging\ndisturbance from the fortress of his calm visage and bearing, as a\nbold and haughty youth should do, yet he could scarcely hold his\nfinger steady as it pointed to the blackened carcase. Then all at once\nhis eyes met those of Elaine where she watched from her window, and\nrelief and joy rushed through him. He stretched his arms towards her,\nnot caring who saw, and the look she sent him with a smile drove all\nsurrounding things to an immeasurable distance away.\n\n\"Here indeed,\" Father Anselm repeated, \"is a miracle. Lo, the empty\nshell! The snake hath shed his skin.\"\n\n\"This is very disappointing,\" said Sir Godfrey, bewildered. \"Is there\nno dragon to roast?\"\n\n\"The roasting,\" replied the Abbot, impressively, \"is even now begun\nfor all eternity.\" He stretched out an arm and pointed downward\nthrough the earth. \"The evil spirit has fled. The Church hath taken\nthis matter into her own hands, and claims yon barren hide as a\nrelic.\"\n\n\"Well,--I don't see why the Church can't let good sport alone,\"\nretorted Sir Godfrey.\n\n\"Hope she'll not take to breaking up my cock-fights this way,\"\nmuttered the Count de Gorgonzola, sulkily.\n\n\"The Church cares nothing for such profane frivolities,\" observed\nFather Anselm with cold dignity.\n\n\"At all events, friends,\" said Sir Godfrey, cheering up, \"the country\nis rid of the Dragon of Wantley, and we've got a wedding and a\nbreakfast left.\"\n\nJust at this moment a young horseman rode furiously into the\ncourt-yard.\n\nIt was Roland, Sir Godfrey's son. \"Great news!\" he began at once.\n\"Another Crusade has been declared--and I am going. Merry Christmas!\nWhere's Elaine? Where's the Dragon?\"\n\nFather Anselm's quick brain seized this chance. He and his monks\nshould make a more stately exit than he had planned.\n\n\"See,\" he said in a clear voice to his monks, \"how all is coming true\nthat was revealed to me this night! My son,\" he continued, turning to\nyoung Roland, \"thy brave resolve reached me ere thou hadst made it.\nKnow it has been through thee that the Dragon has gone!\"\n\nUpon this there was profound silence.\n\n\"And now,\" he added solemnly, \"farewell. The monks of Oyster-le-Main\ngo hence to the Holy Land also, to battle for the true Faith. Behold!\nwe have made us ready to meet the toil.\"\n\nHis haughty tones ceased, and he made a sign. The gray gowns fell to\nthe snow, and revealed a stalwart, fierce-looking crew in black\narmour. But the Abbot kept his gray gown.\n\n\"You'll stay for the wedding?\" inquired Sir Godfrey of him.\n\n\"Our duty lies to the sea. Farewell, for I shall never see thy face\nagain.\"\n\nHe turned. Hubert gathered up the hide of the crocodile and threw a\nfriendly glance back at Geoffrey. Then again raising their song, the\nblack band slowly marched out under the gate and away over the snow\nuntil the ridge hid them from sight, and only their singing could be\nheard in the distant fields.\n\n\"Well,\" exclaimed Sir Godfrey, \"it's no use to stand staring. Now for\nthe wedding! Mistletoe, go up and tell Miss Elaine. Hucbald, tell the\norganist to pipe up his music. And as soon as it's over we'll drink\nthe bride's health and health to the bridegroom. 'Tis a lucky thing\nthat between us all the Dragon is gone, for there's still enough of my\nBurgundy to last us till midnight. Come, friends, come in, for\neverything waits your pleasure!\"\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n                         L'ENVOI\n\n     Reader, if thou hast found thy Way thus far,\n     Sure then I've writ beneath a lucky Star;\n     And Nothing so becomes all Journeys' Ends\n     As that the Travellers should part as Friends.","title":"The Dragon of Wantley: His Tale","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":30402}