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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Dragon of Wantley + His Tale + +Author: Owen Wister + +Illustrator: John Stewardson + +Release Date: August 28, 2008 [EBook #26448] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRAGON OF WANTLEY *** + + + + +Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="note"> +<h4>Transcriber's Note</h4> + +<p>Due to the nature of illustrations, this file is best viewed in +Firefox 3 or Internet Explorer 7. The illustrations might appear slightly +shifted in other browsers.</p> +</div> + + +<div class="titleframe"><a name="DRAGON" id="DRAGON"></a> +<h1 class="title"><small>THE</small><br /> +DRAGON<br /> +<small>OF</small><br /> +WANTLEY<br /> + +<small>HIS TALE</small></h1> + +<p class="author"><i>By</i> Owen Wister</p> + +<p class="center" style="padding-top: 3em"><i>Illustrations by John Stewardson</i></p> + +<p class="center" style="padding-top: 3em; font-size: 110%">SECOND EDITION</p> +</div> + +<p class="publisher">Philadelphia<br /> +J·B·LIPPINCOTT<br /> +COMPANY<br /> +1895</p> + + +<div class="versoframe"><a name="copyright" id="copyright"></a> +<p class="verso">·COPYRIGHT·1892·<br /> + +·BY·J·B·LIPPINCOTT·COMPANY·<br /><br /> + +PRINTED·BY·J·B·LIPPINCOTT·COMPANY<br /> + +·PHILADELPHIA·USA·</p> +</div> + + +<p class="dedication"><span style="padding-left: 8em">TO</span><br /> +MY ANCIENT PLAYMATES IN APPIAN<br /> +WAY CAMBRIDGE THIS LIKELY<br /> +STORY IS DEDICATED FOR REASONS<br /> +BEST KNOWN TO THEMSELVES</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 37px;"> +<img src="images/illo_png007.jpg" width="37" height="50" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px; padding-top: 2em"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +<img src="images/illo_png009.jpg" width="300" height="191" alt="Preface" title="Preface" /> +</div> + + + +<div class="poem" style="margin-left: 33%"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">When</span> Betsinda held the Rose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the Ring decked Giglio’s finger<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thackeray! ’twas sport to linger<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thy wise, gay-hearted prose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Books were merry, goodness knows!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Betsinda held the Rose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who but foggy drudglings doze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While Rob Gilpin toasts thy witches,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the Ghost waylays thy breeches,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ingoldsby? Such tales as those<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exorcised our peevish woes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Betsinda held the Rose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Realism, thou specious pose!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Haply it is good we met thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But, passed by, we’ll scarce regret thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For we love the light that glows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Queen Fancy’s pageant goes,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span><span class="i0">And Betsinda holds the Rose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall we dare it? Then let’s close<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Doors to-night on things statistic,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seek the hearth in circle mystic,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the conjured fire-light shows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Youth’s bubbling Fountain flows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Betsinda holds the Rose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px; padding-top: 2em"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +<img src="images/illo_png011.jpg" width="300" height="326" alt="Preface to the Second Edition" title="Preface to the Second Edition" /> +</div> + + +<p>We two—the author and his illustrator—did not know what +we had done until the newspapers told us. But the press has +explained it in the following poised and consistent criticism:</p> + +<div class="quotes"> +<p>“Too many suggestions of profanity.”<br /> +<span style="padding-left: 5em">—<i>Congregationalist</i>, Boston, 8 Dec. ’92.</span></p> + +<p>“It ought to be the delight of the nursery.”<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span><span style="padding-left: 5em">—<i>National Tribune</i>, Washington, 22 Dec. ’92.</span></p> + +<p>“Grotesque and horrible.”<br /> +<span style="padding-left: 5em">—<i>Zion’s Herald</i>, Boston, 21 Dec. ’92.</span></p> + +<p>“Some excellent moral lessons.”<br /> +<span style="padding-left: 5em">—<i>Citizen</i>, Brooklyn, 27 Nov. ’92.</span></p> + +<p>“If it has any lesson to teach, we have been unable to find +it.”<br /> +<span style="padding-left: 5em">—<i>Independent</i>, New York, 10 Nov. ’92.</span></p> + +<p>“The story is a familiar one.”<br /> +<span style="padding-left: 5em">—<i>Detroit Free Press</i>, 28 Nov. ’92.</span></p> + +<p>“Refreshingly novel.”<br /> +<span style="padding-left: 5em">—<i>Cincinnati Commercial Gazette</i>, 17 Dec. ’92.</span></p> + +<p>“It is a burlesque.”<br /> +<span style="padding-left: 5em">—<i>Atlantic Monthly</i>, Dec. ’92.</span></p> + +<p>“All those who love lessons drawn from life will enjoy this +book.”<br /> +<span style="padding-left: 5em">—<i>Christian Advocate</i>, Cincinnati, 2 Nov. ’92.</span></p> + +<p>“The style of this production is difficult to define.”<br /> +<span style="padding-left: 5em">—<i>Court Journal</i>, London, 26 Nov. ’92.</span></p> + +<p>“One wonders why writer and artist should put so much +labor on a production which seems to have so little reason +for existence.”<br /> +<span style="padding-left: 5em">—<i>Herald and Presbyterian</i>, Cincinnati.</span></p> +</div> + +<p>Now the public knows exactly what sort of book this is, +and we cannot be held responsible.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px; padding-top: 4em"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +<img src="images/illo_png013.jpg" width="450" height="84" alt="Table of Contents" title="Table of Contents" /> +</div> + + + +<table summary="table of contents"> +<tr><td class="chhead" colspan="2"><a href="#Page_19">CHAPTER I.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"> </td><td class="ra"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td class="la">How Sir Godfrey came to lose his Temper</td><td class="ra"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chhead" colspan="2"><a href="#Page_35">CHAPTER II.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="la">How his Daughter, Miss Elaine, behaved herself in Consequence</td><td class="ra"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chhead" colspan="2"><a href="#Page_52">CHAPTER III.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="la">Reveals the Dragon in his Den</td><td class="ra"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chhead" colspan="2"><a href="#Page_62">CHAPTER IV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="la">Tells you more about Him than was ever told before to Anybody</td><td class="ra"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chhead" colspan="2"><a href="#Page_77">CHAPTER V.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="la">In which the Hero makes his First Appearance and is Locked Up immediately</td><td class="ra"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chhead" colspan="2"><a href="#Page_91">CHAPTER VI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>In which Miss Elaine loses her Heart, and finds Something of the Greatest Importance</td><td class="ra"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chhead" colspan="2"><a href="#Page_113">CHAPTER VII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="la">Shows what Curious Things you may see, if you don’t go to Bed when you are sent</td><td class="ra"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chhead" colspan="2"><a href="#Page_136">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="la">Contains a Dilemma with two simply egregious Horns</td><td class="ra"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chhead" colspan="2"><a href="#Page_168">CHAPTER IX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="la">Leaves much Room for guessing about Chapter Ten</td><td class="ra"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chhead" colspan="2"><a href="#Page_187">CHAPTER X.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="la">The great White Christmas at Wantley</td><td class="ra"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 24px; padding-top: 4em; padding-bottom: 4em"> +<img src="images/illo_png014.jpg" width="24" height="50" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +<img src="images/illo_png015.jpg" width="350" height="158" alt="List of Illustrations" title="List of Illustrations" /> +</div> + + +<table class="loi" summary="list of illustrations"> + +<tr><td class="la"> </td><td class="ra"><small>Page</small></td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#DRAGON">Ornamented title</a></td><td class="ra">3</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#copyright">Copyright notice</a></td><td class="ra">4</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_7">Head-piece—Preface</a></td><td class="ra">7</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_9">Head-piece—Preface to the Second Edition</a></td><td class="ra">9</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_11">Head-piece—Table of Contents</a></td><td class="ra">11</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_13">Head-piece—List of Illustrations</a></td><td class="ra">13</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_17">Half-title to Chapter I</a></td><td class="ra">17</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_19">Head-piece to Chapter I</a></td><td class="ra">19</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_27">Popham awaiteth the Result with Dignity</a></td><td class="ra">27</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#baron">The Baron pursueth Whelpdale into the Buttery</a></td><td class="ra">32</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#tail1">Tail-piece to Chapter I</a></td><td class="ra">33</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_34">Half-title to Chapter II</a></td><td class="ra">34</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_35">Head-piece to Chapter II</a></td><td class="ra">35</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#godfrey">Sir Godfrey maketh him ready for the Bath</a></td><td class="ra">39</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#godfrey2">Sir Godfrey getteth into his Bath</a></td><td class="ra">41</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_43">Mistletoe consulteth the Cooking Book</a></td><td class="ra">43</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span><a href="#elaine">Elaine maketh an unexpected Remark</a></td><td class="ra">49</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_51">Half-title to Chapter III</a></td><td class="ra">51</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_52">Head-piece to Chapter III</a></td><td class="ra">52</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_55">Hubert sweepeth the Steps</a></td><td class="ra">55</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_61">Half-title to Chapter IV</a></td><td class="ra">61</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_62">Head-piece to Chapter IV</a></td><td class="ra">62</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#hubert">Hubert looketh out of the Window</a></td><td class="ra">69</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#tail2">Tail-piece to Chapter IV</a></td><td class="ra">75</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_76">Half-title to Chapter V</a></td><td class="ra">76</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_77">Head-piece to Chapter V</a></td><td class="ra">77</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#flippancy">Geoffrey replieth with deplorable Flippancy to Father Anselm</a> </td><td class="ra">84</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#tail3">Tail-piece to Chapter V</a></td><td class="ra">89</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_90">Half-title to Chapter VI</a></td><td class="ra">90</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_91">Head-piece to Chapter VI</a></td><td class="ra">91</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#thebaron">The Baron setteth forth his Plan for circumventing the Dragon</a></td><td class="ra">96</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_101">Geoffrey tuggeth at the Bars</a></td><td class="ra">101</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#tail4">Tail-piece to Chapter VI</a></td><td class="ra">111</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_112">Half-title to Chapter VII</a></td><td class="ra">112</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_113">Head-piece to Chapter VII</a></td><td class="ra">113</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_120">Elaine cometh into the Cellar</a></td><td class="ra">120</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#geoffreydragon">Geoffrey goeth to meet the Dragon</a></td><td class="ra">128</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_135">Half-title to Chapter VIII</a></td><td class="ra">135</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_136">Head-piece to Chapter VIII</a></td><td class="ra">136</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#thirst">The Dragon thinketh to slake his Thirst</a></td><td class="ra">142</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#entrapped">The Dragon perceiveth Himself to be Entrapped</a></td><td class="ra">148</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#noise">A Noise in the Cellar</a></td><td class="ra">155, 156</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span><a href="#Page_167">Half-title to Chapter IX</a></td><td class="ra">167</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_168">Head-piece to Chapter IX</a></td><td class="ra">168</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_176">Sir Francis decideth to go down again</a></td><td class="ra">176</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Hubert2">Brother Hubert goeth back to Oyster-le-Main for the last Time</a></td><td class="ra">181</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#tail5">Tail-piece to Chapter IX</a></td><td class="ra">185</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_186">Half-title to Chapter X</a></td><td class="ra">186</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#Page_187">Head-piece to Chapter X</a> </td><td class="ra">187</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#debrie">Sir Thomas de Brie hastens to accept the Baron’s polite Invitation</a></td><td class="ra">192</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#courtyard">The Court-yard</a></td><td class="ra">198<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#appearance">The Dragon maketh his last Appearance</a></td><td class="ra">203</td></tr> +<tr><td class="la"><a href="#envoi">L’Envoi</a></td><td class="ra">208</td></tr> +</table> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 37px; padding-top: 4em; padding-bottom: 4em"> +<img src="images/illo_png017.jpg" width="37" height="50" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +<img src="images/illo_png019.jpg" width="350" height="337" alt="QUI NE SAULTE SAULTE SERA" title="QUI NE SAULTE SAULTE SERA" /> +</div> + +<p> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> + + + +<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png021.jpg); height: 100%;"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> + +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:227px; height:310px;"> </div> + +<p style="padding-top: 7em; text-indent: 0em"><span style="text-transform: uppercase">here</span> was something +wrong in the cellar at +Wantley Manor. Little +Whelpdale knew it, for +he was Buttons, and +Buttons always knows +what is being done with +the wine, though he may look as if he did not. +And old Popham knew it, too. He was Butler, +and responsible to Sir Godfrey for all the brandy, +and ale, and cider, and mead, and canary, and +other strong waters there were in the house.</p> + +<p>Now, Sir Godfrey Disseisin, fourth Baron of +Wantley, and immediate tenant by knight-service +to His Majesty King John of England, was particular +about his dogs, and particular about his +horses, and about his only daughter and his boy +Roland, and had been very particular indeed +about his wife, who, I am sorry to say, did not +live long. But all this was nothing to the fuss +he made about his wine. When the claret was +not warm enough, or the Moselle wine was not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +cool enough, you could hear him roaring all over +the house; for, though generous in heart and a +staunch Churchman, he was immoderately choleric. +Very often, when Sir Godfrey fell into +one of his rages at dinner, old Popham, standing +behind his chair, trembled so violently that his +calves would shake loose, thus obliging him to +hasten behind the tall leathern screen at the head +of the banquet-hall and readjust them.</p> + + +<p>Twice in each year the Baron sailed over to +France, where he visited the wine-merchants, +and tasted samples of all new vintages,—though +they frequently gave him unmentionable aches. +Then, when he was satisfied that he had selected +the soundest and richest, he returned to Wantley +Manor, bringing home wooden casks that were +as big as hay-stacks, and so full they could not +gurgle when you tipped them. Upon arriving, +he sent for Mrs. Mistletoe, the family governess +and (for economy’s sake) housekeeper, who knew +how to write,—something the Baron’s father and +mother had never taught him when he was a +little boy, because they didn’t know how themselves, +and despised people who did,—and when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +Mrs. Mistletoe had cut neat pieces of card-board +for labels and got ready her goose-quill, Sir Godfrey +would say, “Write, Château Lafitte, 1187;” +or, “Write, Chambertin, 1203.” (Those, you +know, were the names and dates of the vintages.) +“Yes, my lord,” Mistletoe always piped up; on +which Sir Godfrey would peer over her shoulder +at the writing, and mutter, “Hum; yes, that’s +correct,” just as if he knew how to read, the old +humbug! Then Mistletoe, who was a silly girl +and had lost her husband early, would go “Tee-hee, +Sir Godfrey!” as the gallant gentleman +gave her a kiss. Of course, this was not just +what he should have done; but he was a widower, +you must remember, and besides that, as +the years went on this little ceremony ceased to +be kept up. When it was “Château Lafitte, +1187,” kissing Mistletoe was one thing; but +when it came to “Chambertin, 1203,” the lady +weighed two hundred and twenty-five pounds, +and wore a wig.</p> +</div> + +<p>But, wig and all, Mistletoe had a high position +in Wantley Manor. The household was conducted +on strictly feudal principles. Nobody,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +except the members of the family, received +higher consideration than did the old Governess. +She and the Chaplain were on a level, socially, +and they sat at the same table with the Baron. +That drew the line. Old Popham the Butler +might tell little Whelpdale as often as he pleased +that he was just as good as Mistletoe; but he +had to pour out Mistletoe’s wine for her, notwithstanding. +If she scolded him (which she +always did if Sir Godfrey had been scolding +her), do you suppose he dared to answer back? +Gracious, no! He merely kicked the two head-footmen, +Meeson and Welsby, and spoke severely +to the nine house-maids. Meeson and +Welsby then made life a painful thing for the +five under-footmen and the grooms, while the +nine house-maids boxed the ears of Whelpdale +the Buttons, and Whelpdale the Buttons punched +the scullion’s eye. As for the scullion, he was +bottom of the list; but he could always relieve +his feelings by secretly pulling the tails of Sir +Godfrey’s two tame ravens, whose names were +Croak James and Croak Elizabeth. I never +knew what these birds did at that; but something,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +you may be sure. So you see that I was +right when I said the household was conducted +on strictly feudal principles. The Cook had a +special jurisdiction of her own, and everybody +was more or less afraid of her.</p> + +<p>Whenever Sir Godfrey had come home with +new wine, and after the labels had been pasted +on the casks, then Popham, with Whelpdale +beside him, had these carefully set down in the +cellar, which was a vast dim room, the ceilings +supported by heavy arches; the barrels, bins, +kegs, hogsheads, tuns, and demijohns of every +size and shape standing like forests and piled to +the ceiling. And now something was wrong +there.</p> + +<p>“This ’ere’s a hawful succumstence, sir,” observed +Whelpdale the Buttons to his superior, +respectfully.</p> + +<p>“It is, indeed, a himbroglio,” replied Popham, +who had a wide command of words, and +knew it.</p> + +<p>Neither domestic spoke again for some time. +They were seated in the buttery. The Butler +crossed his right leg over his left, and waved the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +suspended foot up and down,—something he +seldom did unless very grievously perturbed. +As for poor little Whelpdale, he mopped his +brow with the napkins that were in a basket +waiting for the wash.</p> + +<p>Then the bell rang.</p> + +<p>“His ludship’s study-bell,” said Popham. +“Don’t keep him waiting.”</p> + +<p>“Hadn’t you better apprise his ludship of the +facks?” asked Whelpdale, in a weak voice.</p> + +<p>Popham made no reply. He arose and briefly +kicked Buttons out of the buttery. Then he +mounted a chair to listen better. “He has +hentered his ludship’s apawtment,” he remarked, +hearing the sound of voices come faintly down +the little private staircase that led from Sir Godfrey’s +study to the buttery: the Baron was in the +habit of coming down at night for crackers and +cheese before he went to bed. Presently one +voice grew much louder than the other. It +questioned. There came a sort of whining in +answer. Then came a terrific stamp on the +ceiling and a loud “Go on, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Now, now, now!” thought Popham.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> + +<p>Do you want to hear at once, without waiting +any longer, what little Whelpdale is telling Sir +Godfrey? Well, you must know that for the past +thirteen years, ever since 1190, the neighbourhood +had been scourged by a terrible Dragon. +The monster was covered with scales, and had a +long tail and huge unnatural wings, beside fearful +jaws that poured out smoke and flame whenever +they opened. He always came at dead of +night, roaring, bellowing, and sparkling and +flaming over the hills, and horrid claps of thunder +were very likely to attend his progress. +Concerning the nature and quality of his roaring, +the honest copyholders of Wantley could never +agree, although every human being had heard +him hundreds of times. Some said it was like +a mad bull, only much louder and worse. Old +Gaffer Piers the ploughman swore that if his +tomcat weighed a thousand pounds it would +make a noise almost as bad as that on summer +nights, with the moon at the full and other cats +handy. But farmer Stiles said, “Nay, ’tis like +none of your bulls nor cats. But when I have +come home too near the next morning, my wife<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +can make me think of this Dragon as soon as +ever her mouth be open.”</p> + + +<div class="backright" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png029.jpg); height: 100%; padding-right: 0.5em"> + +<div class="sandbag-right" style="width:200px; height:239px;"> </div> +<div class="sandbag-right" style="width:320px; height:45px;"> </div> + +<p>This shows you that there were divers opinions.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +If you were not afraid to look out of the +window about midnight, you could see the sky +begin to look red in the quarter from which he +was approaching, just as it glares when some +distant house is on fire. But you must shut the +window and hide before he came over the hill; +for very few that had looked upon the Dragon +ever lived to that day twelvemonth. This monster +devoured the substance of the tenantry and +yeomen. When their fields of grain were golden +for the harvest, in a single night he cut them +down and left their acres blasted by his deadly +fire. He ate the cows, the sheep, the poultry, +and at times even sucked eggs. Many pious +saints had visited the district, but not one had +been able by his virtue to expel the Dragon; +and the farmers and country folk used to repeat +a legend that said the Dragon was a punishment +for the great wickedness of the Baron’s +ancestor, the original Sir Godfrey Disseisin, who, +when summoned on the first Crusade to Palestine, +had entirely refused to go and help his +cousin Godfrey de Bouillon wrest the Holy Sepulchre +from the Paynim. The Baron’s ancestor, +when a stout young lad, had come over with +William the Conqueror; and you must know +that to have an ancestor who had come over +with William the Conqueror was in those old +days a much rarer thing than it is now, and +any one who could boast of it was held in +high esteem by +his neighbours, +who +asked him to +dinner and left +their cards upon +him continually. +But the first +Sir Godfrey +thought one +conquest was +enough for any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +man; and in reply to his cousin’s invitation to +try a second, answered in his blunt Norman +French, “Nul tiel verte dedans ceot oyle,” +which displeased the Church, and ended forever +all relations between the families. The +Dragon did not come at once, for this gentleman’s +son, the grandfather of our Sir Godfrey, as +soon as he was twenty-one, went off to the Holy +Land himself, fought very valiantly, and was +killed, leaving behind him at Wantley an inconsolable +little wife and an heir six months old. +This somewhat appeased the Pope; but the present +Sir Godfrey, when asked to accompany King +Richard Lion Heart on his campaign against the +Infidel, did not avail himself of the opportunity to +set the family right in the matter of Crusades. +This hereditary impiety, which the Pope did not +consider at all mended by the Baron’s most regular +attendance at the parish church on all Sundays, +feast days, fast days, high days, low days, +saints’ days, vigils, and octaves, nor by his paying +his tithes punctually to Father Anselm, Abbot of +Oyster-le-Main (a wonderful person, of whom I +shall have a great deal to tell you presently), this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +impiety, I say, finished the good standing of the +House of Wantley. Rome frowned, the earth +trembled, and the Dragon came. And (the legend +went on to say) this curse would not be +removed until a female lineal descendant of the +first Sir Godfrey, a young lady who had never +been married, and had never loved anybody except +her father and mother and her sisters and +brothers, should go out in the middle of the night +on Christmas Eve, all by herself, and encounter +the Dragon single handed.</p> + +<p>Now, of course, this is not what little Whelpdale +is trying to tell the Baron up in the study; +for everybody in Wantley knew all about the +legend except one person, and that was Miss +Elaine, Sir Godfrey’s only daughter, eighteen +years old at the last Court of Piepoudre, when +her father (after paying all the farmers for all the +cows and sheep they told him had been eaten +by the Dragon since the last Court) had made +his customary proclamation, to wit: his good-will +and protection to all his tenantry; and if any +man, woman, child, or other person, caused his +daughter, Miss Elaine, to hear anything about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +the legend, such tale-bearer should be chained +to a tree, and kept fat until the Dragon found +him and ate him. So everybody obligingly kept +the Baron’s secret.</p> +</div> + +<p>Sir Godfrey is just this day returned from +France with some famous tuns of wine, and +presents for Elaine and Mrs. Mistletoe. His +humour is (or was, till Whelpdale, poor wretch! +answered the bell) of the best possible. And +now, this moment, he is being told by the luckless +Buttons that the Dragon of Wantley has +taken to drinking, as well as eating, what does +not belong to him; has for the last three nights +burst the big gates of the wine-cellar that open +on the hillside the Manor stands upon; that a +hogshead of the Baron’s best Burgundy is going; +and that two hogsheads of his choicest Malvoisie +are gone!</p> + +<p>One hundred and twenty-eight gallons in three +nights’ work! But I suppose a fire-breathing +Dragon must be very thirsty.</p> + +<p>There was a dead silence in the study overhead, +and old Popham’s calves were shaking +loose as he waited.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> + +<p>“And so you stood by and let this black, +sneaking, prowling, thieving” (here the Baron +used some shocking expressions which I shall not +set down) “Dragon swill my wine?”</p> + +<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png034.jpg); height: 100%;"><a name="baron" id="baron"></a> + +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:184px; height:365px;"> </div> + +<p style="padding-top: 2.5em">“St—st—stood by, your ludship?” said little +Whelpdale. “No, sir; no one didn’t do any +standing by, sir. He roared that terrible, sir, +we was all under the bed.”</p> + +<p>“Now, by my coat of mail and great right +leg!” shouted Sir Godfrey. The quaking Popham +heard no more. The door of the private +staircase flew open with a loud noise, and down +came little Whelpdale head over heels into the +buttery. After him strode Sir Godfrey in full +mail armour, clashing his steel fists against the +banisters. The nose-piece of his helmet was +pushed up to allow him to speak plainly,—and +most plainly did he speak, I can assure you, all +the way down stairs, keeping his right eye glaring +upon Popham in one corner of the buttery, +and at the same time petrifying Whelpdale +with his left. From father to son, the Disseisins +had always been famous for the manner +in which they could straddle their eyes; and in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +Sir Godfrey the +family trait was +very strongly +marked.</p> + +<p>Arrived at the +bottom, he stopped +for a moment to +throw a ham +through the stained-glass +window, and +then made straight +for Popham. But +the head Butler was +an old family servant, +and had learned to know his place.</p> + +<p>With surprising agility he hopped on a table,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +so that Sir Godfrey’s foot flew past its destined +goal and caught a shelf that was loaded +with a good deal of his wedding china. The +Baron was far too dignified a person to take +any notice of this mishap, and he simply +strode on, out of the buttery, and so through +the halls of the Manor, where all who caught +even the most distant sight of his coming, +promptly withdrew into the privacy of their +apartments.</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px; padding-top: 2em"><a name="tail1" id="tail1"></a> +<img src="images/illo_png035.jpg" width="250" height="201" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 2em"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +<img src="images/illo_png036.jpg" width="250" height="290" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png037.jpg); height: 100%;"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> + +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:226px; height:335px;"> </div> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em; padding-top: 11em"><span style="text-transform: uppercase">he</span> Baron walked on, his +rage mounting as he +went, till presently he +began talking aloud to +himself. “Mort d’aieul +and Cosenage!” he muttered, grinding his teeth +over these oaths; “matters have come to a +pretty pass, per my and per tout! And this is +what my wine-bibbing ancestor has brought on +his posterity by his omission to fight for the True +Faith!”</p> + +<p>Sir Godfrey knew the outrageous injustice of +this remark as well as you or I do; and so did +the portrait of his ancestor, which he happened +to be passing under, for the red nose in the +tapestry turned a deeper ruby in scornful anger. +But, luckily for the nerves of its descendant, the +moths had eaten its mouth away so entirely, that +the retort it attempted to make sounded only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +like a faint hiss, which the Baron mistook for a +little gust of wind behind the arras.</p> + +<p>“My ruddy Burgundy!” he groaned, “going, +going! and my rich, fruity Malvoisie,—all gone! +Father Anselm didn’t appreciate it, either, that +night he dined here last September. He said I +had put egg-shells in it. Egg-shells! Pooh! As +if any parson could talk about wine. These +Church folk had better mind their business, and +say grace, and eat their dinner, and be thankful. +That’s what I say. Egg-shells, forsooth!” The +Baron was passing through the chapel, and he +mechanically removed his helmet; but he did not +catch sight of the glittering eye of Father Anselm +himself, who had stepped quickly into the confessional, +and there in the dark watched Sir Godfrey +with a strange, mocking smile. When he +had the chapel to himself again, the tall gray +figure of the Abbot appeared in full view, and +craftily moved across the place. If you had been +close beside him, and had listened hard, you +could have heard a faint clank and jingle beneath +his gown as he moved, which would have struck +you as not the sort of noise a hair-shirt ought to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +make. But I am glad you were not there; for I +do not like the way the Abbot looked at all, especially +so near Christmas-tide, when almost +every one somehow looks kinder as he goes +about in the world. Father Anselm moved out +of the chapel, and passed through lonely corridors +out of Wantley Manor, out of the court-yard, +and so took his way to Oyster-le-Main in +the gathering dusk. The few people who met +him received his blessing, and asked no questions; +for they were all serfs of the glebe, and +well used to meeting the Abbot going and +coming near Wantley Manor.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Sir Godfrey paced along. “To +think,” he continued, aloud, “to think the country +could be rid of this monster, this guzzling serpent, +in a few days! Plenty would reign again. +Public peace of mind would be restored. The +cattle would increase, the crops would grow, my +rents treble, and my wines be drunk no more +by a miserable, ignorant—but, no! I’m her +father. Elaine shall never be permitted to sacrifice +herself for one dragon, or twenty dragons, +either.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Why, what’s the matter, papa?”</p> + +<p>Sir Godfrey started. There was Miss Elaine +in front of him; and she had put on one of the +new French gowns he had brought over with +him.</p> +</div> + +<p>“Matter? Plenty of matter!” he began, unluckily. +“At least, nothing is the matter at all, +my dear. What a question! Am I not back all +safe from the sea? Nothing is the matter, of +course! Hasn’t your old father been away from +you two whole months? And weren’t those +pretty dresses he has carried back with him for +his little girl? And isn’t the wine—Zounds, no, +the wine isn’t—at least, certainly it is—to be sure +it’s what it ought to be—<i>what</i> it ought to be? +Yes! But, Mort d’aieul! not <i>where</i> it ought to +be! Hum! hum! I think I am going mad!” +And Sir Godfrey, forgetting he held the helmet +all this while, dashed his hands to his head with +such violence that the steel edge struck hard +above the ear, and in one minute had raised a +lump there as large as the egg of a fowl.</p> + +<p>“Poor, poor papa,” said Miss Elaine. And +she ran and fetched some cold water, and, dipping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +her dainty lace handkerchief into it, she bathed +the Baron’s head.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, my child,” he murmured, presently. +“Of course, nothing is the matter. They +were very slow in putting the new” (here he +gave a gulp) “casks of wine into the cellar; +that’s all. ’Twill soon be dinner-time. I must +make me ready.”</p> + +<p>And so saying, the Baron kissed his daughter +and strode away towards his dressing-room. But +she heard him shout “Mort d’aieul!” more than +once before he was out of hearing. Then his +dressing-room door shut with a bang, and sent +echoes all along the entries above and below.</p> + +<div class="backright" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png041.jpg); height: 100%;"><a name="godfrey" id="godfrey"></a> + +<div class="sandbag-right" style="width:370px; height:200px;"> </div> +<div class="sandbag-right" style="width:500px; height:50px;"> </div> + +<p>The December +night +was coming +down, and a +little twinkling +lamp +hung at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +end of the passage. Towards this Miss Elaine +musingly turned her steps, still squeezing her +now nearly dry handkerchief.</p> + +<p>“What did he mean?” she said to herself.</p> + +<p>“Elaine!” shouted Sir Godfrey, away off round +a corner.</p> + +<p>“Yes, papa, I’m coming.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t come. I’m going to the bath. A—did +you hear me say anything particular?”</p> + +<p style="padding-top: 0.5em">“Do you mean when I met you?” answered +Elaine. “Yes—no—that is,—not exactly, +papa.”</p> + +<p>“Then don’t dare to ask me any questions, +for I won’t have it.” And another door slammed.</p> + +<p>“What did papa mean?” said Miss Elaine, +once more.</p> + +<p>Her bright brown eyes were looking at the +floor as she walked slowly on towards the light, and +her lips, which had been a little open so that you +could have seen what dainty teeth she had, shut +quite close. In fact, she was thinking, which was +something you could seldom accuse her of. I do +not know exactly what her thoughts were, except +that the words “dragon” and “sacrifice” kept<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +bumping against each other in them continually; +and whenever they bumped, Miss Elaine frowned +a little deeper, till she really looked almost +solemn. In this way she came under the hanging +lamp and entered the door in front of which +it shone.</p> +</div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"><a name="godfrey2" id="godfrey2"></a> +<img src="images/illo_png043.jpg" width="450" height="383" alt="Sir Godfrey Setteth in to hys Bath" title="Sir Godfrey Setteth in to hys Bath" /> +</div> + +<p>This was the ladies’ library, full of the most +touching romances about Roland, and Walter of +Aquitaine, and Sir Tristram, and a great number +of other excitable young fellows, whose behaviour<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +had invariably got them into dreadful difficulties, +but had as invariably made them, in the eyes of +every damsel they saw, the most attractive, fascinating, +sweet, dear creatures in the world. +Nobody ever read any of these books except +Mrs. Mistletoe and the family Chaplain. These +two were, indeed, the only people in the household +that knew how to read,—which may account +for it in some measure. It was here that Miss +Elaine came in while she was thinking so hard, +and found old Mistletoe huddled to the fire. +She had been secretly reading the first chapters +of a new and pungent French romance, called +“Roger and Angelica,” that was being published +in a Paris and a London magazine simultaneously. +Only thus could the talented French +author secure payment for his books in England; +for King John, who had recently murdered his +little nephew Arthur, had now turned his attention +to obstructing all arrangements for an international +copyright. In many respects, this monarch +was no credit to his family.</p> + +<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/illo_png045.jpg"><img src="images/illo_png045_th.jpg" +alt="Mistletoe consults her cookbook" title="Mistletoe consults her cookbook" /></a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> + + +<p>When the Governess heard Miss Elaine open +the door behind her, she thought it was the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +family Chaplain, and, quickly throwing the shocking +story on the floor, she opened the household +cookery-book,—an enormous volume many feet +square, suspended from the ceiling by strong +chains, and containing several thousand receipts +for English, French, Italian, Croatian, Dalmatian, +and Acarnanian dishes, beginning with a poem +in blank verse written to his confectioner by the +Emperor Charles the Fat. German cooking was +omitted.</p> + +<p>“I’m looking up a new plum-pudding for +Christmas,” said Mistletoe, nervously, keeping +her virtuous eyes on the volume.</p> + +<p>“Ah, indeed!” Miss Elaine answered, indifferently. +She was thinking harder than ever,—was, +in fact, inventing a little plan.</p> + +<p>“Oh, so it’s you, deary!” cried the Governess, +much relieved. She had feared the Chaplain +might pick up the guilty magazine and find its +pages cut only at the place where the French +story was. And I am grieved to have to tell you +that this is just what he did do later in the evening, +and sat down in his private room and read +about Roger and Angelica himself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Here’s a good one,” said Mistletoe. “Number +39, in the Appendix to Part Fourth. Chop +two pounds of leeks and——”</p> + +<p>“But I may not be here to taste it,” said +Elaine.</p> + +<p>“Bless the child!” said Mistletoe. “And +where else would you be on Christmas-day but +in your own house?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps far away. Who knows?”</p> + +<p>“You haven’t gone and seen a young man +and told him——”</p> + +<p>“A young man, indeed!” said Elaine, with a +toss of her head. “There’s not a young man in +England I would tell anything save to go about +his business.”</p> + +<p>Miss Elaine had never seen any young men +except when they came to dine on Sir Godfrey’s +invitation; and his manner on those occasions so +awed them that they always sat on the edge of +their chairs, and said, “No, thank you,” when the +Baron said, “Have some more capon?” Then +the Baron would snort, “Nonsense! Popham, +bring me Master Percival’s plate,” upon which +Master Percival invariably simpered, and said that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +really he did believe he <i>would</i> take another slice. +After these dinners, Miss Elaine retired to her +own part of the house; and that was all she ever +saw of young men, whom she very naturally +deemed a class to be despised as silly and wholly +lacking in self-assertion.</p> + +<p>“Then where in the name of good saints are +you going to be?” Mistletoe went on.</p> + +<p>“Why,” said Elaine, slowly (and here she +looked very slyly at the old Governess, and then +quickly appeared to be considering the lace on +her dress), “why, of course, papa would not +permit me to sacrifice myself for one dragon or +twenty dragons.”</p> + +<p>“What!” screamed Mistletoe, all in a flurry (for +she was a fool). “What?”</p> + +<p>“Of course, I know papa would say that,” said +Miss Elaine, demure as possible.</p> + +<p>“Oh, mercy me!” squeaked Mistletoe; “we +are undone!”</p> + +<p>“To be sure, I might agree with papa,” said +the artful thing, knowing well enough she was on +the right track.</p> + +<p>“Oo—oo!” went the Governess, burying her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +nose in the household cookery-book and rocking +from side to side.</p> + +<p>“But then I might not agree with papa, you +know. I might think,—might think——” Miss +Elaine stopped at what she might think, for +really she hadn’t the slightest idea what to say +next.</p> + +<p>“You have no right to think,—no right at +all!” burst out Mistletoe. “And you sha’n’t be +allowed to think. I’ll tell Sir Godfrey at once, +and he’ll forbid you. Oh, dear! oh, dear! just +before Christmas Eve, too! The only night in +the year! She has no time to change her mind; +and she’ll be eaten up if she goes, I know she +will. What villain told you of this, child? Let +me know, and he shall be punished at once.”</p> + +<p>“I shall not tell you that,” said Elaine.</p> + +<p>“Then everybody will be suspected,” moaned +Mistletoe. “Everybody. The whole household. +And we shall all be thrown to the Dragon. Oh, +dear! was there ever such a state of things?” +The Governess betook herself to weeping and +wringing her hands, and Elaine stood watching +her and wondering how in the world she could find<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +out more. She knew now just enough to keep her +from eating or sleeping until she knew everything.</p> + +<p>“I don’t agree with papa, at all,” she said, +during a lull in the tears. This was the only +remark she could think of.</p> + +<p>“He’ll lock you up, and feed you on bread +and water till you do—oo—oo!” sobbed Mistletoe; +“and by that time we shall all be ea—ea—eaten +up!”</p> + +<p>“But I’ll talk to papa, and make him change +his mind.”</p> + +<p>“He won’t. Do you think you’re going to +make him care more about a lot of sheep and +cows than he does about his only daughter? +Doesn’t he pay the people for everything the +Dragon eats up? Who would pay him for you, +when you were eaten up?”</p> + +<p>“How do you know that I should be eaten +up?” asked Miss Elaine.</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear! oh, dear! and how could you stop +it? What could a girl do alone against a dragon +in the middle of the night?”</p> + +<p>“But on Christmas Eve?” suggested the young +lady. “There might be something different<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +about that. He might feel better, you know, on +Christmas Eve.”</p> + +<p>“Do you suppose a wicked, ravenous dragon +with a heathen tail is going to care whether it is +Christmas Eve or not? He’d have you for his +Christmas dinner, and that’s all the notice he +would take of the day. And then perhaps he +wouldn’t leave the country, after all. How can +you be sure he would go away, just because that +odious, vulgar legend says so? Who would rely +on a dragon? And so there you would be gone, +and he would be here, and everything!”</p> + +<p>Mistletoe’s tears flowed afresh; but you see +she had said all that Miss Elaine was so curious +to know about, and the fatal secret was out.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a name="elaine" id="elaine"></a> +<img src="images/illo_png051.jpg" width="500" height="231" alt="ELAINE MAKETH AN VNEXPECTED REMARK" title="ELAINE MAKETH AN VNEXPECTED REMARK" /> +</div> + +<p>The Quarter-Bell rang for dinner, and both the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +women hastened to their rooms to make ready; +Mistletoe still boo-hooing and snuffling, and declaring +that she had always said some wretched, +abominable villain would tell her child about that +horrid, ridiculous legend, that was a perfect falsehood, +as anybody could see, and very likely invented +by the Dragon himself, because no human +being with any feelings at all would think of such +a cruel, absurd idea; and if they ever did, they +deserved to be eaten themselves; and she would +not have it.</p> + +<p>She said a great deal more that Elaine, in the +next room, could not hear (though the door was +open between), because the Governess put her +fat old face under the cold water in the basin, +and, though she went on talking just the same, +it only produced an angry sort of bubbling, which +conveyed very little notion of what she meant.</p> + +<p>So they descended the stairway, Miss Elaine +walking first, very straight and solemn; and that +was the way she marched into the banquet-hall, +where Sir Godfrey waited.</p> + +<p>“Papa,” said she, “I think I’ll meet the +Dragon on Christmas Eve!”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px; padding-bottom: 2em; padding-top: 2em"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +<img src="images/illo_png053.jpg" width="250" height="321" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png054.jpg); height: 100%;"> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> + +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:215px; height:310px;"> </div> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em; padding-top: 6.3em"><span style="text-transform: uppercase">round</span> the sullen towers +of Oyster-le-Main the +snow was falling steadily. +It was slowly banking up +in the deep sills of the +windows, and Hubert +the Sacristan had given +up sweeping the steps. Patches of it, that had +collected on the top of the great bell as the +slanting draughts blew it in through the belfry-window, +slid down from time to time among the +birds which had nestled for shelter in the beams +below. From the heavy main outer-gates, the +country spread in a white unbroken sheet to the +woods. Twice, perhaps, through the morning +had wayfarers toiled by along the nearly-obliterated +high-road.</p> + +<p>“Good luck to the holy men!” each had said +to himself as he looked at the chill and austere +walls of the Monastery. “Good luck! and I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +hope that within there they be warmer than I +am.” Then I think it very likely that as he +walked on, blowing the fingers of the hand that +held his staff, he thought of his fireside and his +wife, and blessed Providence for not making him +pious enough to be a monk and a bachelor.</p> + +<p>This is what was doing in the world outside. +Now inside the stone walls of Oyster-le-Main, +whose grim solidity spoke of narrow cells and of +pious knees continually bent in prayer, not a +monk paced the corridors, and not a step could +be heard above or below in the staircase that +wound up through the round towers. Silence +was everywhere, save that from a remote quarter +of the Monastery came a faint sound of music. +Upon such a time as Christmas Eve, it might well +be that carols in plenty would be sung or studied +by the saintly men. But this sounded like no +carol. At times the humming murmur of the +storm drowned the measure, whatever it was, +and again it came along the dark, cold entries, +clearer than before. Away in a long vaulted +room, whose only approach was a passage in the +thickness of the walls, safe from the intrusion of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +the curious, a company is sitting round a cavernous +chimney, where roars and crackles a great +blazing heap of logs. Surely, for a monkish +song, their melody is most odd; yet monks they +are, for all are clothed in gray, like Father Anselm, +and a rope round the waist of each. But +what can possibly be in that huge silver rundlet +into which they plunge their goblets so often? +The song grows louder than ever.</p> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We are the monks of Oyster-le-Main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hooded and gowned as fools may see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hooded and gowned though we monks be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is that a reason we should abstain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From cups of the gamesome Burgundie?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though our garments make it plain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That we are Monks of Oyster-le-Main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is no reason we should abstain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From cups of the gamesome Burgundie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>“I’m sweating hot,” says one. “How for disrobing, +brothers? No danger on such a day as +this, foul luck to the snow!”</p> + +<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png057.jpg); height: 100%;"> + +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:120px; height:120px;"> </div> +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:340px; height:145px;"> </div> + +<p>Which you see was coarse and vulgar language<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +for any one to be heard to use, and particularly +so for a godly celibate. But the words were +scarce said, when off fly those monks’ hoods, and +the waist-ropes rattle as they fall on the floor, +and the gray gowns drop down and are kicked +away.</p> + +<p>Every man jack of them is in black armour, +with a long sword buckled to his side.</p> + +<p>“Long cheer to the Guild of Go-as-you-Please!” +they shouted, hoarsely, and dashed +their drinking-horns on the board. Then filled +them again.</p> + +<p>“Give us a song, Hubert,” +said one. “The day’s +a dull one out in the world.”</p> + +<p>“Wait a while,” replied +Hubert, whose nose was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +hidden in his cup; “this new Wantley tipple is a +vastly comfortable brew. What d’ye call the stuff?”</p> + +<p>“Malvoisie, thou oaf?” said another; “and of +a delicacy many degrees above thy bumpkin +palate. Leave profaning it, therefore, and to thy +refrain without more ado.”</p> + +<p>“Most unctuous sir,” replied Hubert, “in demanding +me this favour, you seem forgetful that +the juice of Pleasure is sweeter than the milk +of Human Kindness. I’ll not sing to give thee +an opportunity to outnumber me in thy cups.”</p> + +<p>And he filled and instantly emptied another +sound bumper of the Malvoisie, lurching slightly +as he did so. “Health!” he added, preparing to +swallow the next.</p> +</div> + +<p>“A murrain on such pagan thirst!” exclaimed +he who had been toasted, snatching the cup +away. “Art thou altogether unslakable? Is +thy belly a lime-kiln? Nay, shalt taste not a +single drop more, Hubert, till we have a stave. +Come, tune up, man!”</p> + +<p>“Give me but leave to hold the empty vessel, +then,” the singer pleaded, falling on one knee in +mock supplication.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Accorded, thou sot!” laughed the other. +“Carol away, now!”</p> + +<p>They fell into silence, each replenishing his +drinking-horn. The snow beat soft against the +window, and from outside, far above them, +sounded the melancholy note of the bell ringing +in the hour for meditation.</p> + +<p>So Hubert began:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the sable veil of night<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Over hill and glen is spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The yeoman bolts his door in fright,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And he quakes within his bed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far away on his ear<br /></span> +<span class="i1">There strikes a sound of dread:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something comes! it is here!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It is passed with awful tread.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There’s a flash of unholy flame;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">There is smoke hangs hot in the air:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">’Twas the Dragon of Wantley came:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Beware of him, beware!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But we beside the fire<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Sit close to the steaming bowl;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We pile the logs up higher,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And loud our voices roll.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the yeoman wakes at dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To begin his round of toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His garner’s bare, his sheep are gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the Dragon holds the spoil.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All day long through the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That yeoman makes his moan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All day long there is mirth<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Behind these walls of stone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For we are the Lords of Ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The gaolers of carking Care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Guild of Go-as-you-Please!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Beware of us, beware!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">So we beside the fire<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Sit down to the steaming bowl;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We pile the logs up higher,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And loud our voices roll.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The roar of twenty lusty throats and the clatter +of cups banging on the table rendered the words +of the chorus entirely inaudible.</p> + +<p>“Here’s Malvoisie for thee, Hubert,” said one +of the company, dipping into the rundlet. But +his hand struck against the dry bottom. They +had finished four gallons since breakfast, and it +was scarcely eleven gone on the clock!</p> + +<p>“Oh, I am betrayed!” Hubert sang out.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +Then he added, “But there is a plenty where that +came from.” And with that he reached for his +gown, and, fetching out a bunch of great brass +keys, proceeded towards a tall door in the wall, +and turned the lock. The door swung open, and +Hubert plunged into the dark recess thus disclosed. +An exclamation of chagrin followed, and +the empty hide of a huge crocodile, with a pair +of trailing wings to it, came bumping out from +the closet into the hall, giving out many hollow +cracks as it floundered along, fresh from a vigourous +kick that the intemperate minstrel had +administered in his rage at having put his hand +into the open jaws of the monster instead of +upon the neck of the demijohn that contained +the Malvoisie.</p> + +<p>“Beshrew thee, Hubert!” said the voice of a +new-comer, who stood eyeing the proceedings +from a distance, near where he had entered; +“treat the carcase of our patron saint with a +more befitting reverence, or I’ll have thee caged +and put upon bread and water. Remember, that +whosoever kicks that skin in some sort kicks +me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Long life to the Dragon of Wantley!” said +Hubert, reappearing, very dusty, but clasping a +plump demijohn.</p> + +<p>“Hubert, my lad,” said the new-comer, “put +back that vessel of inebriation; and, because I +like thee well for thy youth and thy sweet voice, +do not therefore presume too far with me.”</p> + +<p>A somewhat uneasy pause followed upon this; +and while Hubert edged back into the closet +with his demijohn, Father Anselm frowned slightly +as his eyes turned upon the scene of late hilarity.</p> + +<p>But where is the Dragon in his den? you ask. +Are we not coming to him soon? Ah, but we +have come to him. You shall hear the truth. +Never believe that sham story about More of +More Hall, and how he slew the Dragon of +Wantley. It is a gross fabrication of some unscrupulous +and mediocre literary person, who, I +make no doubt, was in the pay of More to blow +his trumpet so loud that a credulous posterity +might hear it. My account of the Dragon is the +only true one.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 2em"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +<img src="images/illo_png063.jpg" width="250" height="280" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png064.jpg); height: 100%;"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:222px; height:305px;"> </div> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em; padding-top: 6.2em"><span style="text-transform: uppercase">n</span> those days of shifting +fortunes, of turbulence +and rapine, of knights-errant +and minstrels +seeking for adventure +and love, and of solitary +pilgrims and bodies of +pious men wandering over Europe to proclaim +that the duty of all was to arise and quell the +pagan defilers of the Holy Shrine, good men and +bad men, undoubted saints and unmistakable +sinners, drifted forward and back through every +country, came by night and by day to every +household, and lived their lives in that unbounded +and perilous freedom that put them at one +moment upon the top limit of their ambition or +their delight, and plunged them into violent and +bloody death almost ere the moment was gone. +It was a time when “fatten at thy neighbour’s +expense” was the one commandment observed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +by many who outwardly maintained a profound +respect for the original ten; and any man whose +wit taught him how this commandment could be +obeyed with the greatest profit and the least +danger was in high standing among his fellows.</p> + +<p>Hence it was that Francis Almoign, Knight of +the Voracious Stomach, cumbered with no domestic +ties worthy of mention, a tall slim fellow +who knew the appropriate hour to slit a throat or +to wheedle a maid, came to be Grand Marshal of +the Guild of Go-as-you-Please.</p> + +<p>This secret band, under its Grand Marshal, +roved over Europe and thrived mightily. Each +member was as stout hearted a villain as you +could see. Sometimes their doings came to light, +and they were forced to hasten across the borders +of an outraged territory into new pastures. Yet +they fared well in the main, for they could fight +and drink and sing; and many a fair one smiled +upon them, in spite of their perfectly outrageous +morals.</p> +</div> + +<p>So, one day, they came into the neighbourhood +of Oyster-le-Main, where much confusion reigned +among the good monks. Sir Godfrey Disseisin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +over at Wantley had let Richard Lion Heart depart +for the Holy Wars without him. “Like +father like son,” the people muttered in their discontent. +“Sure, the Church will gravely punish +this second offence.” To all these whisperings +of rumour the Grand Marshal of the Guild paid +fast attention; for he was a man who laid his +plans deeply, and much in advance of the event. +He saw the country was fat and the neighbours +foolish. He took note of the handsome tithes +that came in to Oyster-le-Main for the support of +the monks. He saw all these things, and set +himself to thinking.</p> + +<p>Upon a stormy afternoon, when the light was +nearly gone out of the sky, a band of venerable +pilgrims stood at the great gates of the Monastery. +Their garments were tattered, their +shoes were in sad disrepair. They had walked +(they said) all the way from Jerusalem. Might +they find shelter for the night? The tale they +told, and the mere sight of their trembling old +beards, would have melted hearts far harder than +those which beat in the breasts of the monks of +Oyster-le-Main. But above all, these pilgrims<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +brought with them as convincing proofs of their +journey a collection of relics and talismans (such +as are to be met with only in Eastern countries) +of great wonder and virtue. With singular generosity, +which they explained had been taught +them by the Arabs, they presented many of these +treasures to the delighted inmates of the Monastery, +who hastened to their respective cells,—this +one reverently cherishing a tuft of hair from +the tail of one of Daniel’s lions; another handling +with deep fervour a strip of the coat of many +colours once worn by the excellent Joseph. But +the most extraordinary relic among them all was +the skin of a huge lizard beast, the like of which +none in England had ever seen. This, the Pilgrims +told their hosts, was no less a thing than a +crocodile from the Nile, the renowned river of +Moses. It had been pressed upon them, as they +were departing from the City of Damascus, by a +friend, a blameless chiropodist, whose name was +Omar Khayyam. He it was who eked out a pious +groat by tending the feet of all outward and inward +bound pilgrims. Seated at the entrance of +his humble booth, with the foot of some holy man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +in his lap, he would speak words of kindness and +wisdom as he reduced the inflammation. One of +his quaintest sayings was, “If the Pope has bid +thee wear hair next thy bare skin, my son, why, +clap a wig over thy shaven scalp.” So the +monks in proper pity and kindness, when they +had shut the great gates as night came down, +made their pilgrim guests welcome to bide at +Oyster-le-Main as long as they pleased. The +solemn bell for retiring rolled forth in the darkness +with a single deep clang, and the sound +went far and wide over the neighbouring district. +Those peasants who were still awake in their +scattered cottages, crossed themselves as they +thought, “The holy men at Oyster-le-Main are +just now going to their rest.”</p> + +<p>And thus the world outside grew still, and the +thick walls of the Monastery loomed up against +the stars.</p> + +<p>Deep in the midnight, many a choking cry +rang fearfully through the stony halls, but came +not to the outer air; and the waning moon shone +faintly down upon the enclosure of the garden, +where worked a band of silent grave-diggers,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +clad in black armour, and with blood-red hands. +The good country folk, who came at early morning +with their presents of poultry and milk, +little guessed what sheep’s clothing the gray +cowls and gowns of Oyster-le-Main had become +in a single night, nor what impious lips those +were which now muttered blessings over their +bent heads.</p> + +<p>The following night, hideous sounds were +heard in the fields, and those who dared to open +their shutters to see what the matter was, beheld +a huge lizard beast, with fiery breath and accompanied +by rattling thunder, raging over the soil, +which he hardly seemed to touch!</p> + +<p>In this manner did the dreaded Dragon of +Wantley make his appearance, and in this manner +did Sir Francis Almoign, Knight of the +Voracious Stomach, stand in the shoes of that +Father Anselm whom he had put so comfortably +out of the way under the flower-beds in the +Monastery garden,—and never a soul in the +world except his companions in orgy to know +the difference. He even came to be welcome +at Sir Godfrey’s table; for after the Dragon’s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +appearance, the Baron grew civil to all members +of the Church. By day this versatile sinner, the +Grand Marshal, would walk in the sight of the +world with staid step, clothed in gray, his hood +concealing his fierce, unchurchly eyes; by night, +inside the crocodile skin, he visited what places +he chose, unhindered by the terrified dwellers, +and after him came his followers of the Guild to +steal the plunder and bear it back inside the +walls of Oyster-le-Main. Never in all their adventures +had these superb miscreants been in +better plight; but now the trouble had begun, +as you are going to hear. We return to Hubert +and the company.</p> + +<p>“Hubert and all of you,” said Father Anselm, +or rather Sir Francis, the Grand Marshal, as we +know him to be, “they say that whom the gods +desire to destroy, him do they first make drunk +with wine.”</p> + +<p>“The application! the application!” they +shouted in hoarse and mirthful chorus, for they +were certainly near that state favourable to destruction +by the gods. One black fellow with a +sliding gait ran into the closet and brought a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +sheet of thin iron, and a strange torch-like tube, +which he lighted at the fire and blew into from +the other end. A plume of spitting flame immediately +shot far into the air.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"><a name="hubert" id="hubert"></a> +<img src="images/illo_png071.jpg" width="300" height="327" alt="Hubert looketh out of ye Window" title="Hubert looketh out of ye Window" /> +</div> + +<p>“Before thy sermon proceeds, old Dragon,” +he said, puffing unsteady but solemn breaths +between his words, “wrap up in lightning and +thunder that we may be—may be—lieve what +you say.” Then he shook the iron till it gave +forth a frightful shattering sound. The Grand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +Marshal said not a word. With three long steps +he stood towering in front of the man and dealt +him a side blow under the ear with his steel fist. +He fell instantly, folding together like something +boneless, and lay along the floor for a moment +quite still, except that some piece in his armour +made a light rattling as though there were +muscles that quivered beneath it. Then he +raised himself slowly to a bench where his +brothers sat waiting, soberly enough. Only +young Hubert grinned aside to his neighbour, +who, perceiving it, kept his eyes fixed as far from +that youth as possible.</p> + +<p>“Thy turn next, if art not careful, Hubert,” +said Sir Francis very quietly, as he seated himself.</p> + +<p>“Wonder of saints!” Hubert thought secretly, +not moving at all, “how could he have seen +that?”</p> + +<p>“’Tis no small piece of good fortune,” continued +the Grand Marshal, “that some one +among us can put aside his slavish appetites, and +keep a clear eye on the watch against misadventure. +Here is my news. That hotch-pot of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +lies we set going among the people has fallen +foul of us. The daughter of Sir Godfrey has +heard our legend, and last week told her sire +that to-night she would follow it out to the letter, +and meet the Dragon of Wantley alone in single +combat.”</p> + +<p>“Has she never loved any man?” asked one.</p> + +<p>“She fulfils every condition.”</p> + +<p>“Who told her?”</p> + +<p>“That most consummate of fools, the Mistletoe,” +said the Grand Marshal.</p> + +<p>“What did Sir Godfrey do upon that?” inquired +Hubert.</p> + +<p>“He locked up his girl and chained the Governess +to a rock, where she has remained in +deadly terror ever since, but kept fat for me to +devour her. Me!” and Sir Francis permitted +himself to smile, though not very broadly.</p> + +<p>“How if Sir Dragon had found the maid +chained instead of the ancient widow?” Hubert +said, venturing to tread a little nearer to familiarity +on the strength of the amusement which +played across the Grand Master’s face.</p> + +<p>“Ah, Hubert boy,” he replied, “I see it is not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +in the Spring only, but in Autumn and Summer +and Winter as well, that thy fancy turns to +thoughts of love. Did the calendar year but +contain a fifth season, in that also wouldst thou +be making honey-dew faces at somebody.”</p> + +<p>But young Hubert only grinned, and closed +his flashing eyes a little, in satisfaction at the +character which had been given him.</p> + +<p>“Time presses,” Sir Francis said. “By noon +we shall receive an important visit. There has +been a great sensation at Wantley. The country +folk are aroused; the farmers have discovered +that the secret of our legend has been revealed +to Miss Elaine. Not one of the clowns would +have dared reveal it himself, but all rejoice in the +bottom of their hearts that she knows it, and +chooses to risk battle with the Dragon. Their +honest Saxon minds perceive the thrift of such an +arrangement. Therefore there is general anxiety +and disturbance to know if Sir Godfrey will permit +the conflict. The loss of his Malvoisie tried +him sorely,—but he remains a father.”</p> + +<p>“That’s kind in him,” said Hubert.</p> + +<p>Sir Francis turned a cold eye on Hubert.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +“As befits a clean-blooded man,” he proceeded, +“I have risen at the dawn and left you wine-pots +in your thick sleep. From the wood’s edge over +by Wantley I’ve watched the Baron come eagerly +to an upper window in his white night-shift. And +when he looks out on Mistletoe and sees she is +not devoured, he bursts into a rage that can be +plainly seen from a distance. These six mornings +I laughed so loud at this spectacle, that I +almost feared discovery. Next, the Baron visits +his daughter, only to find her food untasted and +herself silent. I fear she is less of a fool than the +rest. But now his paternal heart smites him, and +he has let her out. Also the Governess is free.”</p> + +<p>“Such a girl as that would not flinch from +meeting our Dragon,” said Hubert; “aye, or +from seeking him.”</p> + +<p>“She must never meet the Dragon,” Sir Francis +declared. “What could I do shut up in the +crocodile, and she with a sword, of course?”</p> + +<p>They were gloomily silent.</p> + +<p>“I could not devour her properly as a dragon +should. Nor could I carry her away,” pursued +Sir Francis.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + +<p>Here Hubert, who had gone to the window, +returned hastily, exclaiming, “They are coming!”</p> + +<p>“Who are coming?” asked several.</p> + +<p>“The Baron, his daughter, the Governess, and +all Wantley at their backs, to ask our pious advice,” +said the Grand Marshal. “Quick, into +your gowns, one and all! Be monks outside, +though you stay men underneath.” For a while +the hall was filled with jostling gray figures entangled +in the thick folds of the gowns, into which +the arms, legs, and heads had been thrust regardless +of direction; the armour clashed invisible +underneath as the hot and choked members +of the Guild plunged about like wild animals +sewed into sacks, in their struggles to reappear +in decent monastic attire. The winged crocodile +was kicked into the closet, after it were hurled +the thunder machine and the lightning torch, and +after them clattered the cups and the silver rundlet. +Barely had Hubert turned the key, when +knocking at the far-off gate was heard.</p> + +<p>“Go down quickly, Hubert,” said the Grand +Marshal, “and lead them all here.”</p> + +<p>Presently the procession of laity, gravely escorted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +by Hubert, began to file into the now +barren-looking room, while the monks stood with +hands folded, and sang loudly what sounded to +the uninstructed ears of each listener like a Latin +hymn.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 2em"><a name="tail2" id="tail2"></a> +<img src="images/illo_png077.jpg" width="200" height="300" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 2em"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +<img src="images/illo_png078.jpg" width="250" height="233" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png079.jpg); height: 100%;"> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> + +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:220px; height:250px;"> </div> +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:320px; height:160px;"> </div> + + +<p style="text-indent: 0em; padding-top: 8em"><span style="text-transform: uppercase">ith</span> the respect that was +due to holy men, Sir +Godfrey removed his +helmet, and stood waiting +in a decent attitude +of attention to the +hymn, although he did not understand a single +word of it. The long deliberate Latin words +rolled out very grand to his ear, and, to tell you +the truth, it is just as well his scholarship was +faulty, for this is the English of those same +words:</p> + +<div class="poem" style="padding-top: 1em"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“It is my intention<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To die in a tavern,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wine in the neighbourhood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close by my thirsty mouth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That angels in chorus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May sing, when they reach me,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">‘Let Bacchus be merciful<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto this wine-bibber.’”<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>But so devoutly did the monks dwell upon the +syllables, so earnestly were the arms of each one +folded against his breast, that you would never +have suspected any unclerical sentiments were +being expressed. The proximity of so many +petticoats and kirtles caused considerable restlessness +to Hubert; but he felt the burning eye +of the Grand Marshal fixed upon him, and sang +away with all his might.</p> + +<p>Sir Godfrey began to grow impatient.</p> + +<p>“Hem!” he said, moving his foot slightly.</p> + +<p>This proceeding, however, was without result. +The pious chant continued to resound, and the +monks paid not the least attention to their visitors, +but stood up together in a double line, +vociferating Latin with as much zest as ever.</p> + +<p>“Mort d’aieul!” growled Sir Godfrey, shifting +his other foot, and not so gingerly this second +time.</p> +</div> + +<p>By chance the singing stopped upon the same +instant, so that the Baron’s remark and the noise +his foot had made sounded all over the room. +This disconcerted him; for he felt his standing +with the Church to be weak, and he rolled his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +eyes from one side to the other, watching for any +effect his disturbance might have made. But, +with the breeding of a true man of the world, the +Grand Marshal merely observed, “Benedicite, +my son!”</p> + +<p>“Good-morning, Father,” returned Sir Godfrey.</p> + +<p>“And what would you with me?” pursued the +so-called Father Anselm. “Speak, my son.”</p> + +<p>“Well, the fact is——” the Baron began, +marching forward; but he encountered the eye +of the Abbot, where shone a cold surprise at this +over-familiar fashion of speech; so he checked +himself, and, in as restrained a voice as he could +command, told his story. How his daughter had +determined to meet the Dragon, and so save +Wantley; how nothing that a parent could say +had influenced her intentions in the least; and +now he placed the entire matter in the hands of +the Church.</p> + +<p>“Which would have been more becoming if +you had done it at the first,” said Father Anselm, +reprovingly. Then he turned to Miss Elaine, +who all this while had been looking out of the +window with the utmost indifference.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> + +<p>“How is this, my daughter?” he said gravely, +in his deep voice.</p> + +<p>“Oh, the dear blessed man!” whispered Mistletoe, +admiringly, to herself.</p> + +<p>“It is as you hear, Father,” said Miss Elaine, +keeping her eyes away.</p> + +<p>“And why do you think that such a peril upon +your part would do away with this Dragon?”</p> + +<p>“Says not the legend so?” she replied.</p> + +<p>“And what may the legend be, my daughter?”</p> + +<p>With some surprise that so well informed a +person as Father Anselm should be ignorant of +this prominent topic of the day, Sir Godfrey here +broke in and narrated the legend to him with +many vigourous comments.</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes,” said the Father, smiling gently +when the story was done; “I do now remember +that some such child’s tale was in the mouths of +the common folk once; but methought the nonsense +was dead long since.”</p> + +<p>“The nonsense, Father!” exclaimed Elaine.</p> + +<p>“Of a surety, my child. Dost suppose that +Holy Church were so unjust as to visit the sins +of thy knightly relatives upon the head of any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +weak woman, who is not in the order of creation +designed for personal conflict with men, let alone +dragons?”</p> + +<p>“Bravo, Dragon!” thought Hubert, as he +listened to this wily talk of his chief.</p> + +<p>But the words “weak woman” had touched +the pride of Miss Elaine. “I know nothing of +weak women,” she said, very stately; “but I do +know that I am strong enough to meet this +Dragon, and, moreover, firmly intend to do so +this very night.”</p> + +<p>“Peace, my daughter,” said the monk; “and +listen to the voice of thy mother the Church +speaking through the humblest of her servants. +This legend of thine holds not a single grain of +truth. ’Tis a conceit of the common herd, set +afoot by some ingenious fellow who may have +thought he was doing a great thing in devising +such fantastic mixture. True it is that the Monster +is a visitation to punish the impiety of certain +members of thy family. True it is that he will +not depart till a member of that family perform +a certain act. But it is to be a male descendant.”</p> + +<p>Now Sir Godfrey’s boy Roland was being instructed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +in knightly arts and conduct away from +home.</p> + +<p>“Who told you that?” inquired the Baron, as +the thought of his precious wine-cellar came into +his head.</p> + +<p>“On last Christmas Eve I had a vision,” replied +Father Anselm. “Thy grandfather, the +brave youth who by journeying to the Holy War +averted this curse until thine own conduct caused +it to descend upon us, appeared to me in shining +armour. ‘Anselm,’ he said, and raised his right +arm, ‘the Dragon is a grievous burden on the +people. I can see that from where I am. Now, +Anselm, when the fitting hour shall come, and +my great-grandson’s years be mature enough to +have made a man of him, let him go to the next +Holy War that is proclaimed, and on the very +night of his departure the curse will be removed +and our family forgiven. More than this, Anselm, +if any male descendant from me direct +shall at any time attend a Crusade when it is +declared, the country will be free forever.’ So +saying, he dissolved out of my sight in a silver +gleaming mist.” Here Father Anselm paused,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +and from under his hood watched with a trifle of +anxiety the effect of his speech.</p> + +<p>There was a short silence, and then Sir Godfrey +said, “Am I to understand this thing hangs +on the event of another Crusade?”</p> + +<p>The Abbot bowed.</p> + +<p>“Meanwhile, till that event happen, the Dragon +can rage unchecked?”</p> + +<p>The Abbot bowed again.</p> + +<p>“Will there be another Crusade along pretty +soon?” Sir Godfrey pursued.</p> + +<p>“These things lie not in human knowledge,” +replied Father Anselm. He little dreamed what +news the morrow’s sun would see.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my sheep!” groaned many a poor +farmer.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my Burgundy!” groaned Sir Godfrey.</p> + +<p>“In that case,” exclaimed Elaine, her cheeks +pink with excitement, “I shall try the virtue of +the legend, at any rate.”</p> + +<p>“Most impious, my daughter, most impious +will such conduct be in the sight of Mother +Church,” said Father Anselm.</p> + +<p>“Hear me, all people!” shouted Sir Godfrey,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +foreseeing that +before the next +Crusade came +every drop of +wine in his cellar would be swallowed by the +Dragon; “hear me proclaim and solemnly promise: +legend true or legend false, my daughter shall +not face this risk. But if her heart go with it, +her hand shall be given to that man who by night +or light brings me this Dragon, alive or dead!”</p> + + +<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png086.jpg); height: 100%;"><a name="flippancy" id="flippancy"></a> + +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:500px; height:100px;"> </div> +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:330px; height:115px;"> </div> + + +<p>“A useless promise, Sir Godfrey!” said Father +Anselm, shrugging his shoulders. “We dare not +discredit the word of thy respected grandsire.”</p> + +<p>“My respected grandsire be——”</p> + +<p>“<i>What?</i>” said the Abbot.</p> + +<p>“Became a credit to his family,” said the +Baron, quite mildly; “and I slight no word of +his. But he did not contradict this legend in the +vision, I think.”</p> + +<p>“No, he did not, papa,” Miss Elaine put in.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +“He only mentioned another way of getting rid +of this horrible Dragon. Now, papa, whatever +you may say about—about my heart and hand,” +she continued firmly, “I am going to meet the +Monster alone myself, to-night.”</p> + +<p>“That you shall not,” said Sir Godfrey.</p> + +<p>“A hundred times no!” said a new voice from +the crowd. “I will meet him myself!”</p> + +<p>All turned and saw a knight pushing his way +through the people.</p> + +<p>“Who are you?” inquired the Baron.</p> + +<p>The stranger bowed haughtily; and Elaine +watched him remove his helmet, and reveal underneath +it the countenance of a young man who +turned to her, and——</p> +</div> + +<p>Why, what’s this, Elaine? Why does everything +seem to swim and grow misty as his eye +meets yours? And why does he look at you so, +and deeply flush to the very rim of his curly hair? +And as his glance grows steadier and more intent +upon your eyes that keep stealing over at him, +can you imagine why his hand trembles on the +hilt of his sword? Don’t you remember what the +legend said?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Who are you?” the Baron repeated, impatiently.</p> + +<p>“I am Geoffrey, son of Bertram of Poictiers,” +answered the young man.</p> + +<p>“And what,” asked Father Anselm, with a +certain irony in his voice, “does Geoffrey, son of +Bertram of Poictiers, so far away from his papa in +this inclement weather?”</p> + +<p>The knight surveyed the monk for a moment, +and then said, “As thou art not my particular +Father Confessor, stick to those matters which +concern thee.”</p> + +<p>This reply did not please any man present, for +it seemed to savour of disrespect. But Elaine +lost no chance of watching the youth, who now +stood alone in the middle of the hall. Sir Francis +detected this, and smiled with a sly smile.</p> + +<p>“Will some person inquire of this polite young +man,” he said, “what he wishes with us?”</p> + +<p>“Show me where this Dragon of Wantley +comes,” said Geoffrey, “for I intend to slay him +to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, sir,” fluttered Elaine, stepping towards +him a little, “I hope—that is, I beg you’ll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +do no such dangerous thing as that for my +sake.”</p> + +<p>“For your sake?” Father Anselm broke in. +“For your sake? And why so? What should +Elaine, daughter of Sir Godfrey Disseisin, care +for the carcase of Geoffrey, son of Bertram of +Poictiers?”</p> + +<p>But Elaine, finding nothing to answer, turned +rosy pink instead.</p> + +<p>“That rules you out!” exclaimed the Father, +in triumph. “Your legend demands a maid who +never has cared for any man.”</p> + +<p>“Pooh!” said Geoffrey, “leave it to me.”</p> + +<p>“Seize him!” shouted Sir Godfrey in a rage. +“He had ruled out my daughter.” Consistency +had never been one of the Baron’s strong points.</p> + +<p>“Seize him!” said Father Anselm. “He outrages +Mother Church.”</p> + +<p>The vassals closed up behind young Geoffrey, +who was pinioned in a second. He struggled +with them till the veins stood out in his forehead +in blue knots; but, after all, one young man of +twenty is not much among a band of stout yeomen; +and they all fell in a heap on the floor,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +pulling and tugging at Geoffrey, who had blacked +several eyes, and done in a general way as much +damage as he possibly could under the circumstances.</p> + +<p>But Elaine noticed one singular occurrence. +Not a monk had moved to seize the young +man, except one, who rushed forward, and was +stopped, as though struck to stone, by Father +Anselm’s saying to him in a terrible undertone, +“Hubert!”</p> + +<p>Simply that word, spoken quickly; but not +before this Hubert had brushed against her so +that she was aware that there was something very +hard and metallic underneath his gray gown. +She betrayed no sign of knowledge or surprise +on her face, however, but affected to be absorbed +wholly in the fortunes of young Geoffrey, whom +she saw collared and summarily put into a cage-like +prison whose front was thick iron bars, and +whose depth was in the vast outer wall of the +Monastery, with a little window at the rear, covered +with snow. The spring-lock of the gate +shut upon him.</p> + +<p>“And now,” said Father Anselm, as the Monastery<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +bell sounded once more, “if our guests +will follow us, the mid-day meal awaits us below. +We will deal with this hot-head later,” he added, +pointing to the prisoner.</p> + +<p>So they slowly went out, leaving Geoffrey +alone with his thoughts.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 2em"><a name="tail3" id="tail3"></a> +<img src="images/illo_png091.jpg" width="250" height="134" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 2em"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +<img src="images/illo_png092.jpg" width="300" height="305" alt="Elaine" title="Elaine" /> +</div> + + + +<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png093.jpg); height: 100%;"> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> + +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:210px; height:300px;"> </div> + + +<p style="padding-top: 8em; text-indent: 0em"><span style="text-transform: uppercase">own</span> stairs the Grace +was said, and the company +was soon seated +and ready for their mid-day +meal.</p> + +<p>“Our fare,” said +Father Anselm pleasantly to Sir Godfrey, who +sat on his right, “is plain, but substantial.”</p> + +<p>“Oh—ah, very likely,” replied the Baron, as +he received a wooden basin of black-bean broth.</p> + +<p>“Our drink is——”</p> + +<p>The Baron lifted his eye hopefully.</p> + +<p>“——remarkably pure water,” Father Anselm +continued. “Clement!” he called to the monk +whose turn it was that day to hand the dishes, +“Clement, a goblet of our well-water for Sir +Godfrey Disseisin. One of the large goblets, +Clement. We are indeed favoured, Baron, in +having such a pure spring in the midst of our +home.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Oh—ah!” observed the Baron again, and politely +nerved himself for a swallow. But his +thoughts were far away in his own cellar over at +Wantley, contemplating the casks whose precious +gallons the Dragon had consumed. Could it be +the strength of his imagination, or else why was +it that through the chilling, unwelcome liquid he +was now drinking he seemed to detect a lurking +flavour of the very wine those casks had contained, +his favourite Malvoisie?</p> +</div> + +<p>Father Anselm noticed the same taste in his +own cup, and did not set it down to imagination, +but afterwards sentenced Brother Clement to +bread and water during three days, for carelessness +in not washing the Monastery table-service +more thoroughly.</p> + +<p>“This simple food keeps you in beautiful health, +Father,” said Mistletoe, ogling the swarthy face +of the Abbot with an affection that he duly noted.</p> + +<p>“My daughter,” he replied, gravely, “bodily +infirmity is the reward of the glutton. I am well, +thank you.”</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Elaine did not eat much. Her +thoughts were busy, and hurrying over recent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +events. Perhaps you think she lost her heart in +the last Chapter, and cannot lose it in this one +unless it is given back to her. But I do not +agree with you; and I am certain that, if you +suggested such a notion to her, she would become +quite angry, and tell you not to talk such +foolish nonsense. People are so absurd about +hearts, and all that sort of thing! No: I do not +really think she has lost her heart yet; but as +she sits at table these are the things she is +feeling:</p> + +<p>1. Not at all hungry.</p> + +<p>2. Not at all thirsty.</p> + +<p>3. What a hateful person that Father Anselm +is!</p> + +<p>4. Poor, poor young man!</p> + +<p>5. Not that she thinks of him in <i>that</i> way, of +course. The idea! Horrid Father Anselm!</p> + +<p>6. Any girl at all—no, not girl, <i>anybody</i> at all—who +had human justice would feel exactly as +she did about the whole matter.</p> + +<p>7. He was very good-looking, too.</p> + +<p>8. Did he have—yes, they were blue. Very, +very dark blue.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> + +<p>9. And a moustache? Well, yes.</p> + +<p>Here she laughed, but no one noticed her +idling with her spoon. Then her eyes filled with +tears, and she pretended to be absorbed with the +black-bean broth, though, as a matter of fact, she +did not see it in the least.</p> + +<p>10. Why had he come there at all?</p> + +<p>11. It was a perfect shame, treating him so.</p> + +<p>12. Perhaps they were not blue, after all. +But, oh! what a beautiful sparkle was in them!</p> + +<p>After this, she hated Father Anselm worse than +ever. And the more she hated him, the more +some very restless delicious something made her +draw long breaths. She positively must go up-stairs +and see what He was doing and what He +really looked like. This curiosity seized hold of +her and set her thinking of some way to slip away +unseen. The chance came through all present +becoming deeply absorbed in what Sir Godfrey +was saying to Father Anselm.</p> + +<p>“Such a low, coarse, untaught brute as a +dragon,” he explained, “cannot possibly distinguish +good wine from bad.”</p> + +<p>“Of a surety, no!” responded the monk.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You agree with me upon that point?” said +the Baron.</p> + +<p>“Most certainly. Proceed.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m going to see that he gets nothing +but the cider and small beer after this.”</p> + +<p>“But how will you prevent him, if he visit your +cellar again?” Father Anselm inquired.</p> + +<p>“I shall change all the labels, in the first +place,” the Baron answered.</p> + +<p>“Ha! vastly well conceived,” said Father Anselm. +“You will label your Burgundy as if it +were beer.”</p> + +<p>“And next,” continued Sir Godfrey, “I shall +shift the present positions of the hogsheads. +That I shall do to-day, after relabelling. In the +northern corner of the first wine vault I +shall——”</p> + +<p>Just as he reached this point, it was quite +wonderful how strict an attention every monk +paid to his words. They leaned forward, forgetting +their dinner, and listened with all their +might.</p> + +<p>One of them, who had evidently received an +education, took notes underneath the table.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +Thus it was that Elaine escaped observation +when she left the refectory.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"><a name="thebaron" id="thebaron"></a> +<img src="images/illo_png098.jpg" width="450" height="385" alt="The Baron setteth forth his Plan for circumuenting the Dragon" title="The Baron setteth forth his Plan for circumuenting the Dragon" /> +</div> + +<p>As she came up-stairs into the hall where Geoffrey +was caged, she stepped lightly and kept +where she could not be seen by him. All was +quiet when she entered; but suddenly she heard +the iron bars of the cage begin to rattle and +shake, and at the same time Geoffrey’s voice +broke out in rage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I’ll twist you loose,” he said, “you—(rattle, +shake)—you—(kick, bang)——” And here the +shocking young man used words so violent and +wicked that Elaine put her hands tight over her +ears. “Why, he is just as dreadful as papa, just +exactly!” she exclaimed to herself. “Whoever +would have thought that that angelic face—but I +suppose they are all like that sometimes.” And +she took her hands away again.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I will twist you loose,” he was growling +hoarsely, while the kicks and wrenches grew +fiercer than ever, “or twist myself stark, staring +blind—and——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, sir!” she said, running out in front of the +cage.</p> + +<p>He stopped at once, and stood looking at +her. His breast-plate and gauntlets were down +on the floor, so his muscles might have more easy +play in dealing with the bars. Elaine noticed +that the youth’s shirt was of very costly Eastern +silk.</p> + +<p>“I was thinking of getting out,” he said at +length, still standing and looking at her.</p> + +<p>“I thought I might—that is—you might—<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>—” +began Miss Elaine, and stopped. Upon which +another silence followed.</p> + +<p>“Lady, who sent you here?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>“Oh, they don’t know!” she replied, hastily; +and then, seeing how bright his face became, and +hearing her own words, she looked down, and +the crimson went over her cheeks as he watched +her.</p> + +<p>“Oh, if I could get out!” he said, desperately. +“Lady, what is your name, if I might be so bold.”</p> + +<p>“My name, sir, is Elaine. Perhaps there is a +key somewhere,” she said.</p> + +<p>“And I am called Geoffrey,” he said, in reply.</p> + +<p>“I think we might find a key,” Elaine repeated.</p> + +<p>She turned towards the other side of the room, +and there hung a great bunch of brass keys dangling +from the lock of a heavy door.</p> + +<p>Ah, Hubert! thou art more careless than +Brother Clement, I think, to have left those keys +in such a place!</p> + +<p>Quickly did Elaine cross to that closed door, +and laid her hand upon the bunch. The door +came open the next moment, and she gave a +shriek to see the skin of a huge lizard-beast fall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +forward at her feet, and also many cups and +flagons, that rolled over the floor, dotting it with +little drops of wine.</p> + +<p>Hearing Elaine shriek, and not able to see from +his prison what had befallen her, Geoffrey shouted +out in terror to know if she had come to any hurt.</p> + +<p>“No,” she told him; and stood eyeing first +the crocodile’s hide and then the cups, setting +her lips together very firmly. “And they were +not even dry,” she said after a while. For she +began to guess a little of the truth.</p> + +<p>“Not dry? Who?” inquired Geoffrey.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Geoffrey!” she burst out in deep anger, +and then stopped, bewildered. But his heart +leaped to hear her call his name.</p> + +<p>“Are there no keys?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Keys? Yes!” she cried, and, running with +them back to the bars, began trying one after +another in trembling haste till the lock clicked +pleasantly, and out marched young Geoffrey.</p> + +<p>Now what do you suppose this young man did +when he found himself free once more, and +standing close by the lovely young person to +whom he owed his liberty? Did he place his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +heels together, and let his arms hang gracefully, +and so bow with respect and a manner at once +dignified and urbane, and say, “Miss Elaine, permit +me to thank you for being so kind as to let +me out of prison?” That is what he ought to +have done, of course, if he had known how to +conduct himself like a well-brought-up young +man. But I am sorry to have to tell you that +Geoffrey did nothing of the sort, but, instead of +that, behaved in a most outrageous manner. He +did not thank her at all. He did not say one +single word to her. He simply put one arm +round her waist and gave her a kiss!</p> + +<p>“Geoffrey!” she murmured, “don’t!”</p> + +<p>But Geoffrey did, with the most astonishing +and complacent disobedience.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Geoffrey!” she whispered, looking the +other way, “how wrong of you! And of me!” +she added a little more softly still, escaping from +him suddenly, and facing about.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see that,” said Geoffrey. “I love +you, Elaine. Elaine, darling, I——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but you mustn’t!” answered she, stepping +back as he came nearer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> + +<div class="backright" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png103.jpg); height: 100%;"> + +<div class="sandbag-right" style="width:350px; height:25px;"> </div> + +<div class="sandbag-right" style="width:200px; height:300px;"> </div> + +<p>This was simply +frightful! And so +sudden. To think of +her—Elaine!—but +she couldn’t think at +all. Happy? Why, +how wicked! How +had she ever——</p> + +<p>“No, you must +not,” she repeated, +and backed away +still farther.</p> + +<p>“But I will!” said +this lover, quite loudly, and sprang so quickly to +where she stood that she was in his arms again, +and this time without the faintest chance of getting +out of them until he should choose to free her.</p> + +<p>It was no use to struggle now, and she was +still, like some wild bird. But she knew that she +was really his, and was glad of it. And she +looked up at him and said, very softly, “Geoffrey, +we are wasting time.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, not at all,” said Geoffrey.</p> + +<p>“But we are.”</p> + +<p>“Say that you love me.”</p> + +<p>“But haven’t I—ah, Geoffrey, please don’t +begin again.”</p> + +<p>“Say that you love me.”</p> + +<p>She did.</p> + +<p>Then, taking his hand, she led him to the door +she had opened. He stared at the crocodile, at +the wine-cups, and then he picked up a sheet of +iron and a metal torch.</p> +</div> + +<p>“I suppose it is their museum,” he said; +“don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Their museum! Geoffrey, think a little.”</p> + +<p>“They seem to keep very good wine,” he remarked, +after smelling at the demijohn.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you see? Can’t you understand?” +she said.</p> + +<p>“No, not a bit. What’s that thing, do you +suppose?” he added, giving the crocodile a kick.</p> + +<p>“Oh, me, but men are simple, men are +simple!” said Elaine, in despair. “Geoffrey, +listen! That wine is my father’s wine, from his +own cellar. There is none like it in all England.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Then I don’t see why he gave it to a parcel +of monks,” replied the young man.</p> + +<p>Elaine clasped her hands in hopelessness, gave +him a kiss, and became mistress of the situation.</p> + +<p>“Now, Geoffrey,” she said, “I will tell you +what you and I have really found out.” Then +she quickly recalled all the recent events. How +her father’s cellar had been broken into; how +Mistletoe had been chained to a rock for a week +and no dragon had come near her. She bade +him remember how just now Father Anselm had +opposed every plan for meeting the Dragon, and +at last she pointed to the crocodile.</p> + +<p>“Ha!” said Geoffrey, after thinking for a +space. “Then you mean——”</p> + +<p>“Of course I do,” she interrupted. “The +Dragon of Wantley is now down-stairs with papa +eating dinner, and pretending he never drinks +anything stronger than water. What do you say +to that, sir?”</p> + +<p>“This is a foul thing!” cried the knight. +“Here have I been damnably duped. Here——” +but speech deserted him. He glared at the crocodile +with a bursting countenance, then drove his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +toe against it with such vigour that it sailed like +a foot-ball to the farther end of the hall.</p> + +<p>“Papa has been duped, and everybody,” said +Elaine. “Papa’s French wine——”</p> + +<p>“They swore to me in Flanders I should find +a real dragon here,” he continued, raging up +and down, and giving to the young lady no part +of his attention. She began to fear he was not +thinking of her.</p> + +<p>“Geoffrey——” she ventured.</p> + +<p>“They swore it. They had invited me to +hunt a dragon with them in Flanders,—Count +Faux Pas and his Walloons. We hunted day +and night, and the quest was barren. They then +directed me to this island of Britain, in which +they declared a dragon might be found by any +man who so desired. They lied in their throats. +I have come leagues for nothing.” Here he +looked viciously at the distant hide of the crocodile. +“But I shall slay the monk,” he added. +“A masquerading caitiff! Lying varlets! And +all for nothing! The monk shall die, however.”</p> + +<p>“Have you come for nothing, Geoffrey?” +murmured Elaine.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Three years have I been seeking dragons in +all countries, chasing deceit over land and sea. +And now once more my dearest hope falls empty +and stale. Why, what’s this?” A choking +sound beside him stopped the flow of his complaints.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Geoffrey,—oh, miserable me!” The +young lady was dissolved in tears.</p> + +<p>“Elaine—dearest—don’t.”</p> + +<p>“You said you had come for n—nothing, and +it was all st—stale.”</p> + +<p>“Ha, I am a fool, indeed! But it was the +Dragon, dearest. I had made so sure of an +honest one in this adventure.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, oh!” went Miss Elaine, with her head +against his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“There, there! You’re sweeter than all the +dragons in the world, my little girl,” said he. +And although this does not appear to be a great +compliment, it comforted her wonderfully in the +end; for he said it in her ear several times without +taking his lips away. “Yes,” he continued, +“I was a fool. By your father’s own word you’re +mine. I have caught the Dragon. Come, my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +girl! We’ll down to the refectory forthwith and +denounce him.”</p> + +<p>With this, he seized Elaine’s hand and hastily +made for the stairs.</p> + +<p>“But hold, Geoffrey, hold! Oh—I am driven +to act not as maidens should,” sighed Elaine. +“He it is who ought to do the thinking. But, +dear me! he does not know how. Do you not +see we should both be lost, were you to try any +such wild plan?”</p> + +<p>“Not at all. Your father would give you to +me.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, no, Geoffrey; indeed, papa would +not. His promise was about a dragon. A live +or a dead dragon must be brought to him. Even +if he believed you now, even if that dreadful +Father Anselm could not invent some lie to put +us in the wrong, you and I could never—that is—papa +would not feel bound by his promise +simply because you did that. There must be a +dragon somehow.”</p> + +<p>“How can there be a dragon if there is not a +dragon?” asked Geoffrey.</p> + +<p>“Wait, wait, Geoffrey! Oh, how can I think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +of everything all at once?” and Elaine pressed +her hands to her temples.</p> + +<p>“Darling,” said the knight, with his arms once +more around her, “let us fly now.”</p> + +<p>“Now? They would catch us at once.”</p> + +<p>“Catch us! not they! with my sword——”</p> + +<p>“Now, Geoffrey, of course you are brave. +But do be sensible. You are only one. No! +I won’t even argue such nonsense. They must +never know about what we have been doing up +here; and you must go back into that cage at +once.”</p> + +<p>“What, and be locked up, and perhaps murdered +to-night, and never see your face again?”</p> + +<p>“But you shall see me again, and soon. That +is what I am thinking about.”</p> + +<p>“How can you come in here, Elaine?”</p> + +<p>“You must come to me. I have it! To-night, +at half-past eleven, come to the cellar-door +at the Manor, and I will be there to let you in. +Then we can talk over everything quietly. I +have no time to think now.”</p> + +<p>“The cellar! at the Manor! And how, pray, +shall I get out of that cage?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Cannot you jump from the little window at +the back?”</p> + +<p>Geoffrey ran in to see. “No,” he said, returning; +“it is many spans from the earth.”</p> + +<p>Elaine had hurried into the closet, whence she +returned with a dusty coil of rope. “Here, +Geoffrey; quickly! put it about your waist. +Wind it so. But how clumsy you are!”</p> + +<p>He stood smiling down at her, and she very +deftly wound the cord up and down, over and +over his body, until its whole length lay comfortably +upon him.</p> + +<p>“Now, your breast-plate, quick!”</p> + +<p>She helped him put his armour on again; and, +as they were engaged at that, singing voices +came up the stairs from the distant dining-hall.</p> + +<p>“The Grace,” she exclaimed; “they will be +here in a moment.”</p> + +<p>Geoffrey took a last kiss, and bolted into his +cage. She, with the keys, made great haste to +push the crocodile and other objects once more +into their hiding-place. Cups and flagons and +all rattled back without regard to order, as they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +had already been flung not two hours before. +The closet-door shut, and Elaine hung the keys +from the lock as she had found them.</p> + +<p>“Half-past eleven,” she said to Geoffrey, as +she ran by his cage towards the stairs.</p> + +<p>“One more, darling,—please, one! through +the bars!” he besought her, in a voice so tender, +that for my part I do not see how she had the +heart to refuse him. But she continued her way, +and swiftly descending the stairs was found by +the company, as they came from the hall, busily +engaged in making passes with Sir Godfrey’s +sword, which he had left leaning near the door.</p> + +<p>“A warlike daughter, Sir Godfrey!” said +Father Anselm.</p> + +<p>“Ah, if I were a man to go on a Crusade!” +sighed Miss Elaine.</p> + +<p>“Hast thou, my daughter,” said Father Anselm, +“thought better of thy rash intentions +concerning this Dragon?”</p> + +<p>“I am travelling towards better thoughts, +Father,” she answered.</p> + +<p>But Sir Francis did not wholly believe the +young lady; and was not at rest until Sir Godfrey<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +assured him her good conduct should be no +matter of her own choosing.</p> + +<p>“You see,” insinuated the Abbot, “so sweet +a maid as yours would be a treat for the unholy +beast. A meal like that would incline him to +remain in a neighbourhood where such dainties +were to be found.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll have no legends and fool’s tricks,” exclaimed +the Baron. “She shall be locked in her +room to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Not if she can help it,” thought Miss Elaine. +Her father had imprudently spoken too loud.</p> + +<p>“’Twere a wise precaution,” murmured Father +Anselm. “What are all the vintages of this +earth by the side of a loving daughter?”</p> + +<p>“Quite so, quite so!” Sir Godfrey assented. +“Don’t you think,” he added, wistfully, “that +another Crusade may come along soon?”</p> + +<p>“Ah, my son, who can say? Tribulation is +our meted heritage. Were thy thoughts more +high, the going of thy liquors would not cause +thee such sorrow. Learn to enjoy the pure cold +water.”</p> + +<p>“Good-afternoon,” said the Baron.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> + +<p>When all the guests had departed and the door +was shut safe behind them, the Father and his +holy companions broke into loud mirth. “The +Malvoisie is drunk up,” said they; “to-night +we’ll pay his lordship’s cellars another visit.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 2em"><a name="tail4" id="tail4"></a> +<img src="images/illo_png113.jpg" width="250" height="195" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 2em"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +<img src="images/illo_png114.jpg" width="300" height="341" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png115.jpg); height: 100%;"> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> + +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:206px; height:290px;"> </div> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em; padding-top: 8.5em"><span style="text-transform: uppercase">o</span> have steered a sudden +course among dangerous +rocks and rapids and +come safe through, puts +in the breast of the +helmsman a calm content +with himself, for which no man will blame +him. What in this world is there so lifts one +into complacency as the doing of a bold and +cool-headed thing? Let the helmsman sleep +sound when he has got to land! But if his +content overtake him still on the water, so that +he grows blind to the treacherous currents that +eddy where all looks placid to the careless eye, +let him beware!</p> + +<p>Sir Francis came in front of the cage where +sat young Geoffrey inside, on the floor. The +knight had put his head down between his knees, +and seemed doleful enough.</p> + +<p>“Aha!” thought Sir Francis, giving the motionless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +figure a dark look, “my hawk is moulting. +We need scarcely put a hood on such a +tersel.”</p> + +<p>Next he looked at the shut door of the closet, +and a shaft of alarm shot through him to see the +keys hanging for anybody to make use of them +that pleased. He thought of Elaine, and her +leaving the table without his seeing her go. +What if she had paid this room a visit?</p> + +<p>“Perhaps that bird with head under wing in +there,” he mused, looking once more at Geoffrey, +“is not the simple-witted nestling he looks. My +son!” he called.</p> +</div> + +<p>But the youth did not care to talk, and so +showed no sign.</p> + +<p>“My son, peace be with you!” repeated Father +Anselm, coming to the bars and wearing a benevolent +mien.</p> + +<p>Geoffrey remained quite still.</p> + +<p>“If repentance for thy presumption hath visited +thee——” went on the Father.</p> + +<p>“Hypocrite!” was the word that jumped to the +youth’s lips; but fortunately he stopped in time, +and only moved his legs with some impatience.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I perceive with pain, my son,” said Father +Anselm, “that repentance hath not yet visited +thee. Well, ’twill come. And that’s a blessing +too,” he added, sighing very piously.</p> + +<p>“He plays a part pretty well,” thought Geoffrey +as he listened. “So will I.” Then he +raised his head.</p> + +<p>“How long am I to stay in this place?” he +inquired, taking a tone of sullen humour, such +as he thought would fit a prisoner.</p> + +<p>“Certainly until thy present unbridled state +of sin is purged out of thee,” replied the Father.</p> + +<p>“Under such a dose as thou art,” Geoffrey +remarked, “that will be soon.”</p> + +<p>“This is vain talk, my son,” said the Abbot. +“Were I of the children of this world, my +righteous indignation——”</p> + +<p>“Pooh!” said Geoffrey.</p> + +<p>“——would light on thee heavily. But we +who have renounced the world and its rottenness” +(here his voice fell into a manner of +chanting) “make a holiday of forgiving injuries, +and find a pleasure even in pain.”</p> + +<p>“Open this door then,” Geoffrey answered,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +“and I’ll provide thee with a whole week of +joy.”</p> + +<p>“Nay,” said Father Anselm, “I had never +gathered from thy face that thou wert such a +knave.”</p> + +<p>“At least in the matter of countenances I have +the advantage of thee,” the youth observed.</p> + +<p>“I perceive,” continued the Father, “that I +must instruct thy spirit in many things,—submission, +among others. Therefore thou shalt +bide with us for a month or two.”</p> + +<p>“That I’ll not!” shouted Geoffrey, forgetting +his rôle of prisoner.</p> + +<p>“She cannot unlock thee,” Father Anselm +said, with much art slipping Elaine into the discourse.</p> + +<p>Geoffrey glared at the Abbot, who now hoped +to lay a trap for him by means of his temper. +So he went further in the same direction. “Her +words are vainer than most women’s,” he said; +“though a lover would trust in them, of course.”</p> + +<p>The knight swelled in his rage, and might have +made I know not what unsafe rejoinder; but the +cords that Elaine had wound about him naturally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +tightened as he puffed out, and seemed by their +pressure to check his speech and bid him be wary. +So he changed his note, and said haughtily, “Because +thy cowl and thy gown shield thee, presume +not to speak of one whose cause I took up +in thy presence, and who is as high above thee in +truth as she is in every other quality and virtue.”</p> + +<p>“This callow talk, my son,” said the Abbot +quietly, “wearies me much. Lay thee down and +sleep thy sulks off, if thou art able.” Upon this, +he turned away to the closet where hung the +brass keys, and opened the door a-crack. He +saw the hide of the crocodile leaning against it, +and the overturned cups. “Just as that boy +Hubert packed them,” he thought to himself in +satisfaction; “no one has been prying here. I +flatter myself upon a skilful morning’s work. +I have knocked the legend out of the Baron’s +head. He’ll see to it the girl keeps away. And +as for yon impudent witling in the cage, we shall +transport him beyond the seas, if convenient; if +not, a knife in his gullet will make him forget the +Dragon of Wantley. Truly, I am master of the +situation!” And as his self-esteem grew, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +Grand Marshal rubbed his hands, and went out +of the hall, too much pleased with himself to +notice certain little drops of wine dotted here +and there close by the closet, and not yet quite +dry, which, had his eye fallen upon them, might +have set him a-thinking.</p> + +<p>So Geoffrey was left in his prison to whatever +comfort meditation might bring him; and the +monks of Oyster-le-Main took off their gowns, +and made themselves ready for another visit to +the wine-cellars of Wantley Manor.</p> + +<p>The day before Christmas came bleakly to its +end over dingle and fen, and the last gray light +died away. Yet still you could hear the hissing +snow beat down through the bramble-thorn and +the dry leaves. After evening was altogether +set in, Hubert brought the knight a supper that +was not a meal a hungry man might be over joyful +at seeing; yet had Hubert (in a sort of fellowship +towards one who seemed scarcely longer +seasoned in manhood than himself, and whom he +had seen blacken eyes in a very valiant manner) +secretly prepared much better food than had been +directed by his worship the Abbot.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> + +<p>The prisoner feigned sleep, and started up at +the rattle which the plate made as it was set +down under his bars.</p> + +<p>“Is it morning?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Morning, forsooth!” Hubert answered. +“Three more hours, and we reach only midnight.” +And both young men (for different +reasons) wished in their hearts it were later.</p> + +<p>“Thou speakest somewhat curtly for a friar,” +said Geoffrey.</p> + +<p>“Alas, I am but a novice, brother,” whined +the minstrel, “and fall easily back into my ancient +and godless syntax. There is food. Pax vobiscum, +son of the flesh.” Then Hubert went over +to the closet, and very quietly unlocking the +door removed the crocodile and the various other +implements that were necessary in bringing into +being the dread Dragon of Wantley. He carried +them away to a remote quarter of the Monastery, +where the Guild began preparations that should +terrify any superstitious witness of their journey +to get the Baron’s wine. Geoffrey, solitary and +watchful in his chilly cage, knew what work must +be going on, and waited his time in patience.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/illo_png122.jpg" width="200" height="366" alt="Elaine cometh into the +Cellar" title="Elaine cometh into the Cellar" /> +</div> + +<p>At supper over at +Wantley there was but +slight inclination to +polite banter. Only +the family Chaplain, +mindful that this was +Christmas Eve, attempted +to make a +little small talk with +Sir Godfrey.</p> + +<p>“Christmas,” he observed +to the Baron, +“is undoubtedly coming.”</p> + +<p>As the Baron did +not appear to have any rejoinder to this, the +young divine continued, pleasantly.</p> + +<p>“Though indeed,” he said, “we might make +this assertion upon any day of the three hundred +and sixty-five, and (I think) remain accurate.”</p> + +<p>“The celery,” growled the Baron, looking into +his plate.</p> + +<p>“Quite so,” cried the Chaplain, cheerily. He +had failed to catch the remark. “Though of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +course everything does depend on one’s point of +view, after all.”</p> + +<p>“That celery, Whelpdale!” roared Sir Godfrey.</p> + +<p>The terrified Buttons immediately dropped a +large venison pasty into Mrs. Mistletoe’s lap. +She, having been somewhat tried of late, began +screeching. Whelpdale caught up the celery, +and blindly rushed towards Sir Godfrey, while +Popham, foreseeing trouble, rapidly ascended the +sideboard. The Baron stepped out of Whelpdale’s +path, and as he passed by administered so +much additional speed that little Buttons flew +under the curtained archway and down many +painful steps into the scullery, and was not seen +again during that evening.</p> + +<p>When Sir Godfrey had reseated himself, it +seemed to the Rev. Hucbald (such was the +Chaplain’s name) that the late interruption might +be well smoothed over by conversation. So he +again addressed the Baron.</p> + +<p>“To be sure,” said he, taking a manner of +sleek clerical pleasantry, “though we can so +often say ‘Christmas is coming,’ I suppose that if +at some suitable hour to-morrow afternoon I said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +to you, ‘Christmas is going,’ you would grant it +to be a not inaccurate remark?” The Baron ate +his dinner.</p> + +<p>“I think so,” pursued the Rev. Hucbald. +“Yes. And by the way, I notice with pleasure +that this snow, which falls so continually, makes +the event of a green Christmas most improbable. +Indeed,—of course the proverb is familiar to +you?—the graveyards should certainly not be fat +this season. I like a lean graveyard,” smiled the +Rev. Hucbald.</p> + +<p>“I hate a —— fool!” exclaimed Sir Godfrey, +angrily.</p> + +<p>After this the family fell into silence. Sir Godfrey +munched his food, brooding gloomily over +his plundered wine-cellar; Mrs. Mistletoe allowed +fancy to picture herself wedded to Father +Anselm, if only he had not been a religious +person; and Elaine’s thoughts were hovering +over the young man who sat in a cage till time +came for him to steal out and come to her. But +the young lady was wonderfully wise, nevertheless.</p> + +<p>“Papa,” she said, as they left the banquet-hall,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +“if it is about me you’re thinking, do not be +anxious any more at all.”</p> + +<p>“Well, well; what’s the matter now?” said the +Baron.</p> + +<p>“Papa, dear,” began Elaine, winsomely pulling +at a tassel on his dining-coat, “do you know, +I’ve been thinking.”</p> + +<p>“Think some more, then,” he replied. “It will +come easier when you’re less new at it.”</p> + +<p>“Now, papa! just when I’ve come to say—when +I want—when you—it’s very hard——” +and here the artful minx could proceed no further, +but turned a pair of shining eyes at him, +and then looked the other way, blinking rapidly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, good Lord!” muttered Sir Godfrey, staring +hard at the wall.</p> + +<p>“Papa—it’s about the Dragon—and I’ve been +wrong. Very wrong. Yes; I know I have. I +was foolish.” She was silent again. Was she +going to cry, after all? The Baron shot a nervous +glance at her from the corner of his eye. +Then he said, “Hum!” He hoped very fervently +there were to be no tears. He desired to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +remain in a rage, and lock his daughter up, and +not put anything into her stocking this Christmas +Eve; and here she was, threatening to be sorry +for the past, and good for the future, and everything +a parent could wish. Never mind. You +can’t expect to get off as easily as all that. She +had been very outrageous. Now he would be +dignified and firm.</p> + +<p>“Of course I should obey Father Anselm,” she +continued.</p> + +<p>“You should obey me,” said Sir Godfrey.</p> + +<p>“And I do hope another Crusade will come +soon. Don’t you think they might have one, +papa? How happy I shall be when your wine +is safe from that horrid Dragon!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t speak of that monster!” shouted the +Baron, forgetting all about firmness and dignity. +“Don’t dare to allude to the reptile in my presence. +Look here!” He seized up a great jug +labelled “Château Lafitte,” and turned it upside +down.</p> + +<p>“Why, it’s empty!” said Elaine.</p> + +<p>“Ha!” snorted the Baron; “empty indeed.” +Then he set the jug down wrong side up, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +remained glaring at it fixedly, while his chest rose +and fell in deep heavings.</p> + +<p>“Don’t mind it so much, papa,” said Elaine, +coming up to him. “This very next season will +Mistletoe and I brew a double quantity of cowslip +wine.”</p> + +<p>“Brrrrooo!” went Sir Godfrey, with a shiver.</p> + +<p>“And I’m sure they’ll have another Crusade +soon; and then my brother Roland can go, and +the Drag— and the curse will be removed. Of +course, I know that is the only way to get rid of +it, if Father Anselm said so. I was very foolish +and wrong. Indeed I was,” said she, and looked +up in his face with eyes where shone such dear, +good, sweet, innocent, daughterly affection, that +nobody in the wide world could have suspected +she was thinking as hard as she could think, “If +only he won’t lock me up! if only he won’t! But, +oh, it’s dreadful in me to be deceiving him so!”</p> + +<p>“There, there!” said the Baron, and cleared +his throat. Then he kissed her. Where were +firmness and dignity now?</p> + +<p>He let her push him into the chimney-corner, +and down into a seat; and then what did this sly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +shocking girl do but sit on his knee and tell him +nobody ever had such a papa before, and she +could never possibly love any one half so much +as she loved him, and weren’t he and she going +to have a merry Christmas to-morrow?</p> + +<p>“How about that pretty young man? Hey? +What?” said Sir Godfrey, in high good-humour.</p> + +<p>“Who?” snapped Elaine.</p> + +<p>“I think this girl knows,” he answered, adopting +a roguish countenance.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I suppose you mean that little fellow +this morning. Pooh!”</p> + +<p>“Ho! ho!” said her father. “Ho! ho! +Little fellow! He was a pretty large fellow in +somebody’s eyes, I thought. What are you so +red about? Ho! ho!” and the Baron popped +his own eyes at her with vast relish.</p> + +<p>“Really, papa,” said Miss Elaine, rising from +his knee, with much coldness, “I hardly understand +you, I think. If you find it amusing (and +you seem to) to pretend that I——” she said no +more, but gave a slight and admirable toss of +the head. “And now I am very sleepy,” she +added. “What hour is it?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>Sir Godfrey took out his grandfather’s sun-dial, +and held it to the lamp. “Bless my soul,” +he exclaimed; “it’s twenty-two o’clock.” (That’s +ten at night nowadays, young people, and much +too late for you to be down-stairs, any of you.)</p> + +<p>“Get to your bed at once,” continued Sir +Godfrey, “or you’ll never be dressed in time for +Chapel on Christmas morning.”</p> + +<p>So Elaine went to her room, and took off her +clothes, and hung up her stocking at the foot of +the bed. Did she go to sleep? Not she. She +laid with eyes and ears wide open. And now +alone here in the dark, where she had nothing +to do but wait, she found her heart beating in +answer to her anxious and expectant thoughts. +She heard the wind come blustering from far off +across the silent country. Then a snore from +Mistletoe in the next room made her jump. +Twice a bar of moonlight fell along the floor, +wavering and weak, then sank out, and the pat +of the snow-flakes began again. After a while +came a step through the halls to her door, and +stopped. She could scarcely listen, so hard she +was breathing. Was her father going to turn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +the key in her door, after +all? No such thought was +any longer in his mind. +She shut her eyes quickly +as he entered. His candle +shone upon her quiet head, +that was nearly buried out of sight; then laughter +shook him to see the stocking, and he went +softly out. He had put on his bed-room slippers; +but, as he intended to make a visit to the +cellar before retiring, it seemed a prudent thing +to wear his steel breast-plate; and over this he +had slipped his quilted red silk dressing-gown, +for it was a very cold night.</p> + +<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png130.jpg); height: 100%;"><a name="geoffreydragon" id="geoffreydragon"></a> + +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:400px; height:130px;"> </div> +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:160px; height:155px;"> </div> + +<p>Was there a sound away off somewhere out-of-doors? +No. He descended heavily through +the sleeping house. When the candle burned +upright and clear yellow, his gait was steady; but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +he started many times at corners where its flame +bobbed and flattened and shrunk to a blue, sickly +rag half torn from the wick. “Ouf! Mort d’aieul!” +he would mutter. “But I must count my wine +to-night.” And so he came down into the wide +cellars, and trod tiptoe among the big round tuns. +With a wooden mallet he tapped them, and +shook his head to hear the hollow humming that +their emptiness gave forth. No oath came from +him at all, for the matter was too grievous. The +darkness that filled everywhere save just next to +the candle, pressed harder and harder upon him. +He looked at the door which led from inside +here out into the night, and it was comfortable to +know how thick were the panels and how stout +the bolts and hinges.</p> + +<p>“I can hold my own against any man, and +have jousted fairly in my time,” he thought to +himself, and touched his sword. “But—um!” +The notion of meeting a fiery dragon in combat +spoke loudly to the better part of his valour. +Suddenly a great rat crossed his foot. Ice and +fire went from his stomach all through him, and +he sprang on a wooden stool, and then found he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +was shaking. Soon he got down, with sweaty +hands.</p> + +<p>“Am I getting a coward?” he asked aloud. +He seized the mallet that had fallen, and struck +a good knock against the nearest hogshead. Ah—ha! +This one, at least, was full. He twisted +the wooden stop and drank what came, from +the hollow of his hand. It was cowslip wine. +Ragingly he spluttered and gulped, and then +kicked the bins with all his might. While he +was stooping to rub his toe, who should march +in but Miss Elaine, dressed and ready for young +Geoffrey. But she caught sight of her father in +time, and stepped back into the passage in a +flutter. Good heavens! This would never do. +Geoffrey might be knocking at the cellar-door at +any moment. Her papa must be got away at +once.</p> +</div> + +<p>“Papa! papa!” she cried, running in.</p> + +<p>Sir Godfrey sprang into the air, throwing mallet +and candle against the wine-butts. Then he +saw it was only his daughter.</p> + +<p>“Wretched girl! you—you—if you don’t want +to become an orphan, never tamper like that with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +my nerves again in your life. What are you +come here for? How dare you leave your bed +at such an hour?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, mercy forgive us!” whimpered a new +voice.</p> + +<p>There was Mistletoe at the door of the passage, +a candle lifted high above her head and wobbling, +so that it shook the grease all over her night-cap. +With the other hand she clutched her camisole, +while beneath a yellow flannel petticoat her fat +feet were rocking in the raw-wool foot-mittens +she wore.</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear: oh, Sir Godfrey! Oh, me!” said +she.</p> + +<p>“Saint Charity! What do you want? Holy +Ragbag, what’s the matter? Is everybody in +my house going stark mad?” Here the Baron +fell over the stool in the dark. “Give me my +candle!” he roared. “Light my candle! What +business have either of you to come here?”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, it’s Miss Elaine I came for. Oh, +me! I’ll catch my death of cold. Her door +shutting waked me up-stairs. Oh, dear! Where +are we coming to?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“You old mattrass!” said Sir Godfrey. Then +he turned to his daughter. But this young lady +had had a little time to gather her thoughts in. +So she cut short all awkward questionings with +excellent promptness.</p> + +<p>“Papa!” she began, breathlessly. “There! +I heard it again!”</p> + +<p>“Heard it? What?” cried the Baron, his +eyes starting.</p> + +<p>“It waked me up-stairs, and I ran to get you +in your room, and you——”</p> + +<p>“It—it? What’s it? What waked you?” +broke in Sir Godfrey, his voice rising to a shriek.</p> + +<p>“There it is again!” exclaimed Elaine, clasping +her hands. “He’s coming! I hear him. +The Dragon! Oh!”</p> + +<p>With this, she pretended to rush for the passage, +where the squeaks of Mistletoe could be +heard already growing distant in the house. +Away bolted Sir Godfrey after her, shouting to +Elaine in terror undisguised, “Lock your door! +Lock your door!” as he fled up-stairs.</p> + +<p>So there stood Miss Elaine alone, with the +coast clear, and no danger from these two courageous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +guardians. Then came a knock from +outside, and her heart bounded as she ran +through the cellar and undid the door.</p> + +<p>“You darling!” said Geoffrey, jumping in with +legs all covered with snow. He left the door +open wide, and had taken four or five kisses at +the least before she could stop him. “The moon +was out for a while,” he continued, “and the +snow stopped. So I came a long way round-about, +that my tracks should not be seen. That’s +good strategy.”</p> + +<p>But this strange young lady said no word, and +looked at him as if she were going to cry.</p> + +<p>“Why, what’s the matter, dear?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Geoffrey! I have been deceiving papa so.”</p> + +<p>“Pooh! It’s not to be thought of.”</p> + +<p>“But I can’t help thinking. I never supposed +I could do so. And it comes so terribly easy. +And I’m not a bit clever when I’m good. And—oh!” +She covered her face and turned away +from him.</p> + +<p>“Stuff and nonsense!” Geoffrey broke out. +“Do be reasonable. Here is a dragon. Isn’t +there?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“And everybody wants to get rid of him?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“And he’s robbing your father?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“So you’re acting for your father’s good?”</p> + +<p>“Y—yes.”</p> + +<p>“Then——”</p> + +<p>“Now, Geoffrey, all your talking doesn’t hide +the badness in the least bit.”</p> + +<p>She was silent again; then suddenly seemed +greatly relieved. “I don’t care,” she declared. +“Papa locked me up for a whole week, when all +I wanted was to help him and everybody get rid +of the Dragon. And I am too old to be treated +so. And now I am just going to pretend there’s +a dragon when there’s not. Oh, what’s that?”</p> + +<p>This time it was no sham. Faint and far from +the direction of Oyster-le-Main came the roar of +the Dragon of Wantley over fields and farms.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 192px; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 2em"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +<img src="images/illo_png137.jpg" width="192" height="350" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png138.jpg); height: 100%;"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> + +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:205px; height:299px;"> </div> + + +<p style="padding-top: 7.5em; text-indent: 0em"><span style="text-transform: uppercase">un</span> instantly into the +house,” said Geoffrey to +Elaine, and he dragged +out his sword.</p> + +<p>But she stared at him, +and nothing further.</p> + +<p>“Or no. Stay here and see me kill him,” the +boy added, pridefully.</p> + +<p>“Kill him!” said she, in amazement. “Do +you suppose that papa, with all his experience, +couldn’t tell it was an imitation dragon? And +you talk of strategy! I have thought much +about to-night,—and, Geoffrey, you must do just +the thing that I bid you, and nothing else. +Promise.”</p> + +<p>“I think we’ll hear first what your wisdom is,” +said he, shaking his head like the sage youth that +he was.</p> + +<p>“Promise!” she repeated, “else I go away at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +once, and leave you. Now! One—two—thrrr——”</p> + +<p>“I promise!” he shouted.</p> + +<p>“’Sh! Papa’s window is just round the tower. +Now, sir, you must go over yonder within those +trees.”</p> + +<p>“Where?”</p> + +<p>“There where the snow has dipped the +branches low down. And leave me alone in the +cellar with the Dragon.”</p> +</div> + +<p>“With the Dragon? Alone? I did not know +you counted me a lunatic,” replied Geoffrey. +Then, after a look over the fields where the +storm was swirling, he gave attention to the +point of his sword.</p> + +<p>“Where’s your promise?” said she. “Will +you break your word so soon?”</p> + +<p>A big gust of wind flung the snow sharp +against their faces.</p> + +<p>“Did you expect——” began the young +knight, and then said some words that I suppose +gentlemen in those old times were more prone +to use before ladies than they are to-day. Which +shows the optimists are right.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then, still distant, but not so distant, came +another roar.</p> + +<p>“Geoffrey!” Elaine said, laying a hand upon +his arm; “indeed, you must hear me now, and +make no delay with contrary notions. There is +no danger for me. Look. He will first be by +himself to clear the way of watchers. No one +peeps out of windows when the Dragon’s howling. +Next, the rest will come and all go into +papa’s cellar for the wine. But we must get +these others away, and that’s for you.” She +paused.</p> + +<p>“Well? Well?” he said.</p> + +<p>“It will go thus: the passage shall hide me, +and the door of it be shut. You’ll watch over +by the trees, and when you see all have come +inside here, make some sort of noise at the edge +of the wood.”</p> + +<p>“What sort of noise?”</p> + +<p>“Oh,—not as if you suspected. Seem to be +passing by. Play you are a villager going home +late. When they hear that, they’ll run away for +fear of their secret. The Dragon will surely stay +behind.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Why will he stay behind? Why will they +run away?”</p> + +<p>“Dear Geoffrey, don’t you see that if these +men were to be seen in company with the +Dragon by one who till now knew them as +monks, where would their living be gone to? +Of course, they will get themselves out of sight, +and the Dragon will remain as a sort of human +scarecrow. Then I’ll come out from the passage-door.”</p> + +<p>“One would almost think you desired that +villain to kill you,” said Geoffrey. “No, indeed. +I’ll not consent to that part.”</p> + +<p>“How shall he kill me here?” Elaine replied. +“Do you not see the Dragon of Wantley would +have to carry a maiden away? He would not +dare to put me to the sword. When I come, I +shall speak three words to him. Before there is +time for him to think what to do, you will hear +me say (for you must have now run up from the +wood) ‘the legend has come true!’ Then, when +I tell him that, do you walk in ready with your +sword to keep him polite. Oh, indeed,” said the +lady, with her eyes sparkling on Geoffrey, “we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +must keep his manners good for him. For I +think he’s one of those persons who might turn +out very rude in a trying situation.”</p> + +<p>All this was far from pleasing to young Geoffrey. +But Elaine showed him how no other way +was to be found by which Sir Francis could be +trapped red-handed and distant from help. While +the knight was bending his brows down with trying +to set his thoughts into some order that +should work out a better device, a glare shone +over the next hill against the falling flakes.</p> + +<p>“Quick!” said Elaine.</p> + +<p>She withdrew into the cellar on the instant, +and the great door closed between them. Geoffrey +stood looking at it very anxiously, and then +walked backwards, keeping close to the walls, +and so round the tower and into the court, +whence he turned and ploughed as fast as he +could through the deep drifts till he was inside +the trees. “If they spy my steps,” he thought, +“it will seem as though some one of the house +had gone in there to secure the door.”</p> + +<p>Once more the glare flashed against the +swiftly-descending curtains of the storm. Slowly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +it approached, sometimes illuminating a tree-trunk +for a moment, then suddenly gleaming on +the white mounds where rocks lay deeply cloaked.</p> + +<p>“He is pretty slow,” said Geoffrey, shifting +the leg he was leaning on.</p> + +<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png144.jpg); height: 100%;"><a name="thirst" id="thirst"></a> + +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:342px; height:100px;"> </div> +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:220px; height:180px;"> </div> + +<p>A black mass moved into sight, and from it +came spoutings of fire that showed dark, jagged +wings heavily flapping. It walked a little and +stopped; then walked again. Geoffrey could +see a great snout and head rocking and turning. +Dismal and unspeakable sounds proceeded +from the creature as it made towards the cellar-door. +After it had got close and leaned against +the panels in a toppling, swaying fashion, came a +noise of creaking and fumbling, and then the +door rolled aside upon its hinges. Next, the +blurred white ridge towards Oyster-le-Main was +darkened with moving specks that came steadily +near; and man by man of the Guild reached +the open door crouching, whispered a word or +two, and crept inside. They made no sound +that could be heard above the hissing of the +downward flakes and the wind that moaned +always, but louder sometimes. Only Elaine,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +with her ear to +the cold iron +key-hole of the +passage-door, +could mark the +clink of armour, +and shivered as +she stood in the +dark. And now the cellar is full,—but not of +gray gowns. The candle flames show little glistening +sparks in the black coats of mail, and +the sight of themselves cased in steel, and each +bearing an empty keg, stirred a laughter among +them. Then the kegs were set down without +noise on the earthy floor among the bins. The +Dragon was standing on his crooked scaly hind-legs; +and to see the grim, changeless jaw and +eyes brought a dead feeling around the heart.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +But the two bungling fore-paws moved upwards, +shaking like a machine, and out of a slit in the +hide came two white hands that lifted to one side +the brown knarled mask of the crocodile. There +was the black head of Sir Francis Almoign. +“’Tis hot in there,” he said; and with two fingers +he slung the drops of sweat from his forehead.</p> + +<p>“Wet thy whistle before we begin,” said Hubert, +filling a jug for him. Sir Francis took it in +both hands, and then clutched it tightly as a +sudden singing was set up out in the night.</p> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">“Come, take a wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come, take a wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere thou learnest age’s treasons!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The tune came clear and jolly, cutting through +the muffled noises of the tempest.</p> + +<p>“Blood and death!” muttered Hubert.</p> + +<p>Each figure had sprung into a stiff position of +listening.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">“Quit thy roving;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shalt by loving<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not wax lean in stormy seasons.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ho! ho! oh,—ho!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not wax lean in——”<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Here the strain snapped off short. Then a +whining voice said, “Oh, I have fallen again! A +curse on these roots. Lucifer fell only once, and +’twas enough for him. I have looked on the +wine when it was red, and my dame Jeanie will +know it soon, oh, soon! But my sober curse on +these roots.”</p> + +<p>“That’s nothing,” said Hubert. “There’s a +band of Christmas singers has strolled into these +parts to chant carols. One of them has stopped +too long at the tavern.”</p> + +<p>“Do I see a light?” said the voice. “Help! +Give me a light, and let me go home.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">“Quit thy roving;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shalt by loving——”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>“Shall I open his throat, that he may sing the +next verse in heaven?” Hubert inquired.</p> + +<p>“No, fool!” said Sir Francis. “Who knows +if his brother sots are not behind him to wake +the house? This is too dangerous to-night. +Away with you, every one. Stoop low till ye +are well among the fields, and then to Oyster-le-Main!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +I’ll be Dragon for a while, and follow +after.”</p> + +<p>Quickly catching up his keg, each man left the +cellar like a shadow. Geoffrey, from the edge +of the wood, saw them come out and dissolve +away into the night. With the tube of the torch +at his lips, Sir Francis blew a blast of fire out at +the door, then covered his head once more with +the grinning crocodile. He roared twice, and +heard something creak behind him, so turned to +see what had made it. There was Miss Elaine +on the passage-steps. Her lips moved to speak, +but for a short instant fear put a silence upon +her that she found no voice to break. He, with +a notion she was there for the sake of the legend, +waved his great paws and trundled towards +where she was standing.</p> + +<p>“Do not forget to roar, sir,” said the young +lady, managing her voice so there was scarce any +tremble to be heard in it.</p> + +<p>At this the Dragon stood still.</p> + +<p>“You perceive,” she said to him, “after all, a +dragon, like a mouse, comes to the trap.”</p> + +<p>“Not quite yet,” cried Sir Francis, in a terrible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +voice, and rushed upon her, meaning +death.</p> + +<p>“The legend has come true!” she loudly +said.</p> + +<p>A gleaming shaft of steel whistled across the +sight of Sir Francis.</p> + +<p>“Halt there!” thundered Geoffrey, leaping +between the two, and posing his sword for a +lunge.</p> + +<p>“My hour has come,” Sir Francis thought. +For he was cased in the stiff hide, and could do +nothing in defence.</p> + +<p>“Now shalt thou lick the earth with thy lying +tongue,” said Geoffrey.</p> + +<p>A sneer came through the gaping teeth of the +crocodile.</p> + +<p>“Valiant, indeed!” the voice said. “Very +valiant and knightly, oh son of Bertram of Poictiers! +Frenchmen know when to be bold. Ha! +ha!”</p> + +<p>“Crawl out of that nut, thou maggot,” answered +Geoffrey, “and taste thy doom.”</p> + +<p>Here was a chance, the gift of a fool. The +two white hands appeared and shifted the mask<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +aside, letting them see a cunning hope on his +face.</p> + +<p>“Do not go further, sir,” said Elaine. “It is +for the good of us all that you abide where you +are. As I shall explain.”</p> + +<p>“What is this, Elaine?” said Geoffrey.</p> + +<p>“Your promise!” she answered, lifting a finger +at him.</p> + +<p>There was a dry crack from the crocodile’s hide.</p> + +<p>“Villain!” cried Geoffrey, seizing the half-extricated +body by the throat. “Thy false skin +is honester than thyself, and warned us. Back +inside!”</p> + +<p>The robber’s eyes shrivelled to the size of a +snake’s, as, with no tenderness, the youth grappled +with him still entangled, and with hands, +feet, and knees drove him into his shell as a +hasty traveller tramples his effects into a packing-case.</p> + +<p>“See,” said Elaine, “how pleasantly we two +have you at our disposal. Shall the neighbours +be called to have a sight of the Dragon?”</p> + +<p>“What do you want with me?” said Sir Francis, +quietly. For he was a philosopher.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> + +<p>“In the first place,” answered Geoffrey, “know +that thou art caught. And if I shall spare thee +this night, it may well be they’ll set thy carcase +swinging on the gallows-tree to-morrow morning,—or, +being Christmas, the day after.”</p> + +<p>“I can see my case without thy help,” Sir +Francis replied. “What next?”</p> + +<p>At this, Elaine came to Geoffrey and they +whispered together.</p> + +<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png150.jpg); height: 100%;"><a name="entrapped" id="entrapped"></a> + +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:185px; height:220px;"> </div> +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:392px; height:70px;"> </div> + + +<p>“Thy trade is done for,” said the youth, at +length. “There’ll be no more monks of Oyster-le-Main, +and no more +Dragon of Wantley. +But thou and the other +curs may live, if ye so +choose.”</p> + +<p>“Through what do I +buy my choice?”</p> + +<p>“Through a further +exhibition of thine art.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +Thou must play Dragon to-night once again for +the last time. This, that I may show thee captive +to Sir Godfrey Disseisin.”</p> + +<p>“And in chains, I think,” added Elaine. +“There is one behind the post.” It had belonged +in the bear-pit during the lives of Orlando +Crumb and Furioso Bun, two bears trapped +expressly for the Baron near Roncevaux.</p> + +<p>“After which?” inquired Sir Francis.</p> + +<p>“Thou shalt go free, and I will claim this lady’s +hand from her father, who promised her to any +man that brought the Dragon to him dead or +alive.”</p> + +<p>“Papa shall be kept at a distance from you,” +said Elaine, “and will never suspect in this dimness, +if you roar at him thoroughly.”</p> +</div> + +<p>“Then,” continued Geoffrey, “I shall lead thee +away as my spoil, and the people shall see the +lizard-skin after a little while. But thou must +journey far from Wantley, and never show face +again.”</p> + +<p>“And go from Oyster-le-Main and the +tithings?” exclaimed Sir Francis. “My house +and my sustenance?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Sustain thyself elsewhere,” said Geoffrey; +“I care not how.”</p> + +<p>“No!” said Sir Francis. “I’ll not do this.”</p> + +<p>“Then we call Sir Godfrey. The Baron will +not love thee very much, seeing how well he +loves his Burgundy thou hast drank. Thou +gavest him sermons on cold spring-water. He’ll +remember that. I think thou’lt be soon hanging. +So choose.”</p> + +<p>The Knight of the Voracious Stomach was +silent.</p> + +<p>“This is a pretty scheme thou hast,” he presently +said. “And not thine own. She has +taught thee this wit, I’ll be bound. Mated to +her, thou’lt prosper, I fear.”</p> + +<p>“Come, thy choice,” said Geoffrey, sternly.</p> + +<p>A sour smile moved the lips of Sir Francis. +“Well,” he said, “it has been good while it +lasted. Yes, I consent. Our interests lie together. +See how Necessity is the mother of +Friendship, also.”</p> + +<p>The mask was drawn over his face, and they +wound the chain about the great body.</p> + +<p>“There must be sounds of fighting,” said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +Elaine. “Make them when I am gone into the +house.”</p> + +<p>“If I had strangled thee in thy prison, which +was in my mind,” said the voice of the hidden +speaker, “this folly we—but there. Let it go, +and begin.”</p> + +<p>Then they fell to making a wonderful disturbance. +The Dragon’s voice was lifted in +horrid howlings; and the young knight continually +bawled with all his lungs. They chased +as children in a game do: forward, back, and +across to nowhere, knocking the barrels, clanking +and clashing, up between the rows and around +corners; and the dry earth was ground under +their feet and swept from the floor upward in a +fine floating yellow powder that they sucked +down into their windpipes, while still they hustled +and jangled and banged and coughed and grew +dripping wet, so the dust and the water mingled +and ran black streams along their bodies from +the neck downwards, tickling their backs and +stomachs mightily. When the breath was no +longer inside them, they stopped to listen.</p> + +<p>The house was stone still, and no noise came,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +save always the wind’s same cheerless blowing.</p> + +<p>“How much more of this before they will +awaken?” exclaimed Geoffrey, in indignation. +“’Tis a scandal people should sleep so.”</p> + +<p>“They are saying their prayers,” said Sir +Francis.</p> + +<p>“It is a pity thou art such a miscreant,” Geoffrey +said, heartily; “otherwise I could sweat +myself into a good-humour with thee.”</p> + +<p>But Sir Francis replied with coldness, “It is +easy for the upper hand to laugh.”</p> + +<p>“We must at it again,” said Geoffrey; “and +this time I will let them hear thou art conquered.” +The din and hubbub recommenced. And Mistletoe +could hear it where she quaked inside her +closet holding the door with both hands. And +the Baron could hear it. He was locked in the +bath-room, dreadfully sorry he had not gone to +the Crusade. Quite unknowingly in his alarm he +had laid hold of a cord that set going the shower-bath; +but he gave no heed at all to this trifle. +And every man and woman in the house heard +the riot, from the scullion up through the cook to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +Popham, who had unstrapped his calves before +retiring, so that now his lean shanks knocked +together like hockey-sticks. Little Whelpdale, +freezing in his shirt-tail under the bed, was crying +piteously upon all Saints to forget about his sins +and deliver him. Only Miss Elaine standing in +her room listened with calm; and she with not +much, being on the threshold of a chance that +might turn untoward so readily. Presently a +victorious shouting came from far down through +the dark.</p> + +<p>“He is mine!” the voice bellowed. “I have +laid him low. The Dragon is taken.” At this +she hastened to summon Sir Godfrey.</p> + +<p>“Why, where can he be?” she exclaimed, +stopping in astonishment at his room, empty and +the door open wide.</p> + +<p>Down in the cellar the voice continued to call +on all people to come and see the Dragon of +Wantley. Also Elaine heard a splashing and +dripping that sounded in the bath-room. So she +ran to the door and knocked.</p> + +<p>“You can’t come in!” said the Baron angrily.</p> + +<p>“Papa! They’ve caught the Dragon. Oh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +why are you taking your bath at such a +time?”</p> + +<p>“Taking my grandmother!” Sir Godfrey retorted +in great dudgeon. But he let the rope go, +and the shower stopped running. “Go to your +room,” he added. “I told you to lock your +door. This Dragon——”</p> + +<p>“But he’s caught, papa,” cried Elaine through +the key-hole. “Don’t you hear me? Geoff——somebody +has got him.”</p> + +<p>“How now?” said the Baron, unlocking the +door and peering out. “What’s all this?”</p> + +<p>His dressing-gown was extremely damp, for +stray spouts from the shower-bath had squirted +over him. Fortunately, the breast-plate underneath +had kept him dry as far as it went.</p> + +<p>“Hum,” he said, after he had listened to the +voice in the cellar. “This is something to be +cautious over.”</p> + +<p>“If the people of this house do not come soon +to bear witness of my conquest,” said the voice +in tones of thunder, “I’ll lead this Dragon +through every chamber of it myself.”</p> + + + +<p>“Damnum absque injuria!” shrieked Sir Godfrey,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +and uttered much more horrible language +entirely unfit for general use. “What the Jeofailes +does the varlet mean by threatening an +Englishman in his own house? I should like to +know who lives here? I should like to know +who I am?”</p> + +<p>The Baron flew down the entry in a rage. He +ran to his bedside and pulled his sword from +under the pillows where he always kept it at +night with his sun-dial.<a name="noise" id="noise"></a></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 175px;"> +<img src="images/illo_png157.jpg" width="175" height="300" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>“We shall see who is master of this house,” +he said. “I am not going to—does he suppose +anybody that pleases can come carting their +dragons through my premises? Get up! Get +up! Every one!” he shouted, +hurrying along the hall with the +sword in his right hand and a +lantern in his left. His slippers +were only half on, so they +made a slithering and slapping +over the floor; and his speed +was such that the quilted red +dressing-gown filled with the +wind and spread behind him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +till he looked like a huge new sort of +bird or an eccentric balloon. Up and +down in all quarters of the house went +Sir Godfrey, pounding +against every shut door. +Out they came. Mistletoe +from her closet, squeaking. +Whelpdale from +under his bed. The +Baron allowed him time +to put on a pair of +breeches wrong side out. +The cook came, and you could hear her panting +all the way down from the attic. Out came the +nine house-maids with hair in curl-papers. The +seven footmen followed. Meeson and Welsby +had forgotten their wigs. The coachman and +grooms and stable-boys came in horse-blankets +and boots. And last in the procession, +old Popham, one calf +securely strapped on, and the +other dangling disgracefully. +Breathless they huddled behind +the Baron, who strode to the cellar,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +where he flung the door open. Over in a corner +was a hideous monster, and every man fell against +his neighbour and shrieked. At which the monster +roared most alarmingly, and all fell together +again. Young Geoffrey stood in the middle of +the cellar, and said not a word. One end of a +chain was in his hand, and he waited mighty stiff +for the Baron to speak. But when he saw Miss +Elaine come stealing in after the rest so quiet +and with her eyes fixed upon him, his own eyes +shone wonderfully.</p> + +<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png158a.jpg); height: 100%;"> + +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:57px; height:70px;"> </div> +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:185px; height:228px;"> </div> + +<p>At the sight of the Dragon, Sir Godfrey forgot +his late excitement, and muttered “Bless my +soul!” Then he stared at the beast for some +time.</p> + +<p>“Can—can’t he do anything?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Geoffrey shortly; “he can’t.”</p> + +<p>“Not fly up at one, for instance?”</p> + +<p>“I have broken his wing,” replied the youth.</p> + +<p>“I—I’d like to look at him. Never saw one +before,” said the Baron; and he took two steps. +Then gingerly he moved another step.</p> + +<p>“Take care!” Geoffrey cried, with rapid +alarm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> + +<p>The monster moved, and from his nostrils (as +it seemed) shot a plume of flame.</p> + +<p>Popham clutched the cook, and the nine house-maids +sank instantly into the arms of the seven +footmen without the slightest regard to how unsatisfactorily +nine goes into seven.</p> +</div> + +<div class="backright" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png158b.jpg); height: 100%;"> + +<div class="sandbag-right" style="width:200px; height:100px;"> </div> +<div class="sandbag-right" style="width:170px; height:50px;"> </div> +<div class="sandbag-right" style="width:150px; height:50px;"> </div> +<div class="sandbag-right" style="width:100px; height:30px;"> </div> + +<p>“Good heavens!” said the Baron, getting +behind a hogshead, “what a brute!”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps it might be useful if I excommunicated +him,” said the Rev. Hucbald, who had +come in rather late, with his clerical frock-coat +buttoned over his pyjamas.</p> + +<p>“Pooh!” said the Baron. “As if he’d care for +that.”</p> + +<p>“Very few men can handle a dragon,” said +Geoffrey, unconcernedly, and stroked his upper +lip, where a kindly-disposed person might see +there was going to be a moustache some +day.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know exactly what you mean to imply +by that, young man,” said the Baron, coming out +from behind the hogshead and puffing somewhat +pompously.</p> + +<p>“Why, zounds!” he exclaimed, “I left you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +locked up this afternoon, and securely. How +came you here?”</p> + +<p>Geoffrey coughed, for it was an awkward inquiry.</p> + +<p>“Answer me without so much throat-clearing,” +said the Baron.</p> +</div> + +<p>“I’ll clear my throat as it pleases me,” replied +Geoffrey hotly. “How I came here is no affair +of yours that I can see. But ask Father Anselm +himself, and he will tell you.” This was a happy +thought, and the youth threw a look at the +Dragon, who nodded slightly. “I have a question +to ask you, sir,” Geoffrey continued, taking +a tone and manner more polite. Then he +pointed to the Dragon with his sword, and was +silent.</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Sir Godfrey, “don’t keep me +waiting.”</p> + +<p>“I fear your memory’s short, sir. By your +word proclaimed this morning the man who +brought you this Dragon should have your +daughter to wife if she—if she——”</p> + +<p>“Ha!” said the Baron. “To be sure. Though +it was hasty. Hum! Had I foreseen the matter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +would be so immediately settled—she’s a great +prize for any lad—and you’re not hurt either. +One should be hurt for such a reward. You +seem entirely sound of limb and without a +scratch. A great prize.”</p> + +<p>“There’s the Dragon,” replied Geoffrey, “and +here am I.”</p> + +<p>Now Sir Godfrey was an honourable man. +When he once had given his word, you could +hold him to it. That is very uncommon to-day, +particularly in the matter of contracts. He +gathered his dressing-gown about him, and +looked every inch a parent. “Elaine,” he said, +“my dear?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, papa!” murmured that young woman in +a die-away voice.</p> + +<p>Geoffrey had just time to see the look in her +brown eye as she turned her head away. And +his senses reeled blissfully, and his brain blew +out like a candle, and he ceased to be a man who +could utter speech. He stood stock-still with his +gaze fixed upon Elaine. The nine house-maids +looked at the young couple with many sympathetic +though respectful sighings, and the seven<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +footmen looked comprehensively at the nine +house-maids.</p> + +<p>Sir Godfrey smiled, and very kindly. “Ah, +well,” he said, “once I—but tush! You’re a +brave lad, and I knew your father well. I’ll +consent, of course. But if you don’t mind, I’ll +give you rather a quick blessing this evening. +’Tis growing colder. Come here, Elaine. Come +here, sir. There! Now, I hate delay in these +matters. You shall be married to-morrow. +Hey? What? You don’t object, I suppose? +Then why did you jump? To-morrow, Christmas +Day, and every church-bell in the county +shall ring three times more than usual. Once +for the holy Feast, and may the Lord bless it +always! and once for my girl’s wedding. And +once for the death and destruction of the Dragon +of Wantley.”</p> + +<p>“Hurrah!” said the united household.</p> + +<p>“We’ll have a nuptials that shall be the talk +of our grandchildren’s children, and after them. +We’ll have all the people to see. And we’ll +build the biggest pile of fagots that can be cut +from my timber, and the Dragon shall be chained<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +on the top of it, and we’ll cremate him like an +Ancient,—only alive! We’ll cremate the monster +alive!”</p> + +<p>Elaine jumped. Geoffrey jumped. The chain +round the Dragon loudly clanked.</p> + +<p>“Why—do you not find this a pleasant plan?” +asked the Baron, surprised.</p> + +<p>“It seems to me, sir,” stuttered Geoffrey, +beating his brains for every next word, “it seems +to me a monstrous pity to destroy this Dragon +so. He is a rare curiosity.”</p> + +<p>“Did you expect me to clap him in a box-stall +and feed him?” inquired the Baron with +scorn.</p> + +<p>“Why, no, sir. But since it is I who have +tracked, stalked, and taken him with the help of +no other huntsman,” said Geoffrey, “I make bold +to think the laws of sport vest the title to him in +me.”</p> + +<p>“No such thing,” said Sir Godfrey. “You +have captured him in my cellar. I know a little +law, I hope.”</p> + +<p>“The law about wild beasts in Poictiers——” +Geoffrey began.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What care I for your knavish and perverted +foreign legalities over the sea?” snorted Sir +Godfrey. “This is England. And our Common +Law says you have trespassed.”</p> + +<p>“My dear sir,” said Geoffrey, “this wild beast +came into your premises after I had marked him.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t dear sir me!” shouted the Baron. +“Will you hear the law for what I say? I tell +you this Dragon’s my dragon. Don’t I remember +how trespass was brought against Ralph +de Coventry, over in Warwickshire? Who did +no more than you have done. And they held +him. And there it was but a little pheasant his +hawk had chased into another’s warren—and +you’ve chased a dragon, so the offence is +greater.”</p> + +<p>“But if—” remonstrated the youth, “if a +fox——”</p> + +<p>“Fox me no foxes! Here is the case of +Ralph de Coventry,” replied Sir Godfrey, looking +learned, and seating himself on a barrel of beer. +“Ralph pleaded before the Judge saying, ‘et +nous lessamus nostre faucon voler à luy, et il le +pursuy en le garrein,’—’tis just your position,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +only ’twas you that pursued and not your falcon, +which does not in the least distinguish the cases.”</p> + +<p>“But,” said Geoffrey again, “the Dragon +started not on your premises.”</p> + +<p>“No matter for that; for you have pursued +him into my warren, that is, my cellar, my enclosed +cellar, where you had no business to be. +And the Court told Ralph no matter ‘que le +feisant leva hors de le garrein, vostre faucon luy +pursuy en le garrein.’ So there’s good sound +English law, and none of your foppish outlandishries +in Latin,” finished the Baron, vastly delighted +at being able to display the little learning +that he had. For you see, very few gentlemen +in those benighted days knew how to speak the +beautiful language of the law so fluently as +that.</p> + +<p>“And besides,” continued Sir Godfrey suddenly, +“there is a contract.”</p> + +<p>“What contract?” asked Geoffrey.</p> + +<p>“A good and valid one. When I said this +morning that I would give my daughter to the +man who brought me the Dragon alive or dead, +did I say I would give him the Dragon too? So<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +choose which you will take, for both you cannot +have.”</p> + +<p>At this Elaine turned pale as death, and Geoffrey +stood dumb.</p> + +<p>Had anybody looked at the Dragon, it was +easy to see the beast was much agitated.</p> + +<p>“Choose!” said Sir Godfrey. “’Tis getting +too cold to stay here. What? You hesitate +between my daughter and a miserable reptile? I +thought the lads of France were more gallant. +Come, sir! which shall it be? The lady or the +Dragon?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Geoffrey, and his blood and heart +stood still (and so did Elaine’s, and so did another +person’s), “I—I—think I will choose the +l—lady.”</p> + +<p>“Hurrah!” cheered the household once more.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Lord!” said the Dragon, but nobody +heard him.</p> + +<p>“Indeed!” observed Sir Godfrey. “And now +we’ll chain him in my bear-pit till morning, and +at noon he shall be burned alive by the blazing +fagots. Let us get some sleep now.”</p> + +<p>The cloud of slimly-clad domestics departed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +with slow steps, and many a look of fear cast +backward at the captured monster.</p> + +<p>“This Dragon, sir,” said Geoffrey, wondering +at his own voice, “will die of thirst in that pit. +Bethink you how deep is his habit of drinking.”</p> + +<p>“Ha! I have often bethought me,” retorted +Sir Godfrey, rolling his eyes over the empty +barrels. “But here! I am a man of some heart, +I hope.”</p> + +<p>He seized up a bucket and ran to the hogshead +containing his daughter’s native cowslip +wine.</p> + +<p>“There!” he observed when the bucket was +pretty well filled. “Put that in to moisten his +last hours.”</p> + +<p>Then the Baron led the way round the Manor +to the court-yard where the bear-pit was. His +daughter kept pace with him not easily, for the +excellent gentleman desired to be a decent distance +away from the Dragon, whom young Geoffrey +dragged along in the rear.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 2em"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +<img src="images/illo_png169.jpg" width="300" height="349" alt="HVCKBALD BELIEVES HE WILL TAKE JVST A LITTLE SIP" title="HVCKBALD BELIEVES HE WILL TAKE JVST A LITTLE SIP" /> +</div> + + + +<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png170.jpg); height: 100%;"> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> + +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:215px; height:290px;"> </div> + + +<p style="text-indent: 0em; padding-top: 6em"><span style="text-transform: uppercase">s</span> they proceeded towards +the bear-pit, having +some distance to go, +good-humour and benevolence +began to rise +up in the heart of Sir +Godfrey.</p> + +<p>“This is a great thing!” he said to Miss +Elaine. “Ha! an important and joyful occurrence. +The news of it will fly far.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” the young lady replied, but without +enthusiasm. “The cattle will be safe now.”</p> + +<p>“The cattle, child! my Burgundy! Think of +that!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, papa.”</p> + +<p>“The people will come,” continued the Baron, +“from all sides to-morrow—why, it’s to-morrow +now!” he cried. “From all sides they will come +to my house to see my Dragon. And I shall +permit them to see him. They shall see him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +cooked alive, if they wish. It is a very proper +curiosity. The brute had a wide reputation.”</p> + +<p>To hear himself spoken of in the past tense, +as we speak of the dead, was not pleasant to Sir +Francis, walking behind Geoffrey on all fours.</p> + +<p>“I shall send for Father Anselm and his +monks,” the Baron went on.</p> + +<p>Hearing this Geoffrey started.</p> + +<p>“What need have we of them, sir?” he inquired. +To send for Father Anselm! It was +getting worse and worse.</p> + +<p>“Need of Father Anselm?” repeated Sir Godfrey. +“Of course I shall need him. I want the +parson to tell me how he came to change his +mind and let you out.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, to be sure,” said Geoffrey, mechanically. +His thoughts were reeling helplessly together, +with no one thing uppermost.</p> +</div> + +<p>“Not that I disapprove it. I have changed my +own mind upon occasions. But ’twas sudden, +after his bundle of sagacity about Crusades and +visions of my ancestor and what not over there +in the morning. Ha! ha! These clericals are +no more consistent than another person. I’ll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +never let the Father forget this.” And the +Baron chuckled. “Besides,” he said, “’tis suitable +that these monks should be present at the +burning. This Dragon was a curse, and curses +are somewhat of a church matter.”</p> + +<p>“True,” said Geoffrey, for lack of a better +reply.</p> + +<p>“Why, bless my soul!” shouted the Baron, +suddenly wheeling round to Elaine at his side, +so that the cowslip wine splashed out of the +bucket he carried, “it’s my girl’s wedding-day +too! I had clean forgot. Bless my soul!”</p> + +<p>“Y—yes, papa,” faltered Elaine.</p> + +<p>“And you, young fellow!” her father called +out to Geoffrey with lusty heartiness. “You’re +a lucky rogue, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” said Geoffrey, but not gayly. He +was wondering how it felt to be going mad. +Amid his whirling thoughts burned the one longing +to hide Elaine safe in his arms and tell her it +would all come right somehow. A silence fell +on the group as they walked. Even to the +Baron, who was not a close observer, the present +reticence of these two newly-betrothed lovers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +was apparent. He looked from one to the other, +but in the face of neither could he see beaming +any of the soft transports which he considered +were traditionally appropriate to the hour. +“Umph!” he exclaimed; “it was never like this +in my day.” Then his thoughts went back some +forty years, and his eyes mellowed from within.</p> + +<p>“We’ll cook the Dragon first,” continued the +old gentleman, “and then, sir, you and my girl +shall be married. Ha! ha! a great day for +Wantley!” The Baron swung his bucket, and +another jet of its contents slid out. He was +growing more and more delighted with himself +and his daughter and her lover and everybody in +the world. “And you’re a stout rogue, too, sir,” +he said. “Built near as well as an Englishman, +I think. And that’s an excellent thing in a husband.”</p> + +<p>The Baron continued to talk, now and then +almost falling in the snow, but not permitting +such slight mishaps to interrupt his discourse, +which was addressed to nobody and had a general +nature, touching upon dragons, marriages, +Crusades, and Burgundy. Could he have seen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +Geoffrey’s more and more woe-begone and distracted +expression, he would have concluded his +future son-in-law was suffering from some sudden +and momentous bodily ill.</p> + +<p>The young man drew near the Dragon. +“What shall we do?” he said in a whisper. +“Can I steal the keys of the pit? Can we +say the Dragon escaped?” The words came in +nervous haste, wholly unlike the bold deliberateness +with which the youth usually spoke. It was +plain he was at the end of his wits.</p> + +<p>“Why, what ails thee?” inquired Sir Francis +in a calm and unmoved voice. “This is a simple +matter.”</p> + +<p>His tone was so quiet that Geoffrey stared in +amazement.</p> + +<p>“But yonder pit!” he said. “We are ruined!”</p> + +<p>“Not at all,” Sir Francis replied. “Truly +thou art a deep thinker! First a woman and +now thine enemy has to assist thy distress.”</p> + +<p>He put so much hatred and scorn into his +tones that Geoffrey flamed up. “Take care!” +he muttered angrily.</p> + +<p>“That’s right!” the prisoner said, laughing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +dryly. “Draw thy sword and split our secret +open. It will be a fine wedding-day thou’lt have +then. Our way out of this is plain enough. Did +not the Baron say that Father Anselm was to be +present at the burning? He shall be present.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said the youth. “But how to get out +of the pit? And how can there be a dragon to +burn if thou art to be Father Anselm? And +how——” he stopped.</p> + +<p>“I am full of pity for thy brains,” said Sir +Francis.</p> + +<p>“Here’s the pit!” said the voice of Sir Godfrey. +“Bring him along.”</p> + +<p>“Hark!” said Sir Francis to Geoffrey. “Thou +must go to Oyster-le-Main with a message. +Darest thou go alone?”</p> + +<p>“If I dare?” retorted Geoffrey, proudly.</p> + +<p>“It is well. Come to the pit when the Baron +is safe in the house.”</p> + +<p>Now they were at the iron door. Here the +ground was on a level with the bottom of the pit, +but sloped steeply up to the top of its walls +elsewhere, so that one could look down inside. +The Baron unlocked the door and entered with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +his cowslip wine, which (not being a very potent +decoction) began to be covered with threads of +ice as soon as it was set down. The night was +growing more bitter as its frosty hours wore on; +for the storm was departed, and the wind fallen +to silence, and the immense sky clean and cold +with the shivering glitter of the stars.</p> + +<p>Then Geoffrey led the Dragon into the pit. +This was a rude and desolate hole, and its furniture +of that extreme simplicity common to +bear-pits in those barbarous times. From the +middle of the stone floor rose the trunk of a +tree, ragged with lopped boughs and at its top +forking into sundry limbs possible to sit among. +An iron trough was there near a heap of stale +greasy straw, and both were shapeless white +lumps beneath the snow. The chiselled and +cemented walls rose round in a circle and showed +no crevice for the nails of either man or bear to +climb by. Many times had Orlando Crumb and +Furioso Bun observed this with sadness, and now +Sir Francis observed it also. He took into his +chest a big swallow of air, and drove it out again +between his teeth with a weary hissing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I will return at once,” Geoffrey whispered as +he was leaving.</p> + +<p>Then the door was shut to, and Sir Francis +heard the lock grinding as the key was turned. +Then he heard the Baron speaking to Geoffrey.</p> + +<p>“I shall take this key away,” he said; “there’s +no telling what wandering fool might let the monster +out. And now there’s but little time before +dawn. Elaine, child, go to your bed. This excitement +has plainly tired you. I cannot have +my girl look like that when she’s a bride to-day. +And you too, sir,” he added, surveying Geoffrey, +“look a trifle out of sorts. Well, I am not surprised. +A dragon is no joke. Come to my +study.” And he took Geoffrey’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no!” said the youth. “I cannot. I—I +must change my dress.”</p> + +<p>“Pooh, sir! I shall send to the tavern for +your kit. Come to my study. You are pale. +We’ll have a little something hot. Aha! Something +hot!”</p> + +<p>“But I think——” Geoffrey began.</p> + +<p>“Tush!” said the Baron. “You shall help me +with the wedding invitations.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>”</p> + +<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png178.jpg); height: 100%;"> + +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:400px; height:120px;"> </div> +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:90px; height:120px;"> </div> + +<p>“Sir!” said Geoffrey haughtily, +“I know nothing of writing and +such low habits.”</p> + +<p>“Why no more do I, of course,” +replied Sir Godfrey; “nor would I suspect you +or any good gentleman of the practice, though +I have made my mark upon an indenture in the +presence of witnesses.”</p> + +<p>“A man may do that with propriety,” assented +the youth. “But I cannot come with you now, +sir. ’Tis not possible.”</p> + +<p>“But I say that you shall!” cried the Baron +in high good-humour. “I can mull Malvoisie famously, +and will presently do so for you. ’Tis +to help me seal the invitations that I want you. +My Chaplain shall write them. Come.”</p> + +<p>He locked Geoffrey’s arm in his own, and +strode quickly forward. Feeling himself dragged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +away, Geoffrey turned his head despairingly back +towards the pit.</p> + +<p>“Oh, he’s safe enough in there,” said Sir Godfrey. +“No need to watch him.”</p> + +<p>Sir Francis had listened to this conversation +with rising dismay. And now he quickly threw +off the crocodile hide and climbed up the tree as +the bears had often done before him. It came +almost to a level with the wall’s rim, but the +radius was too great a distance for jumping.</p> + +<p>“I should break my leg,” he said, and came +down the tree again, as the bears had likewise +often descended.</p> +</div> + +<p>The others were now inside the house. Elaine +with a sinking heart retired to her room, and her +father after summoning the Rev. Hucbald took +Geoffrey into his study. The Chaplain followed +with a bunch of goose-quills and a large ink-horn, +and seated himself at a table, while the Baron +mixed some savoury stuff, going down his private +staircase into the buttery to get the spice and +honey necessary.</p> + +<p>“Here’s to the health of all, and luck to-day,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>” +said the Baron; and Geoffrey would have been +quite happy if an earthquake had come and +altered all plans for the morning. Still he went +through the form of clinking goblets. But his +heart ached, and his eyes grew hot as he sat +dismal and lonely away from his girl.</p> + +<p>“Whom shall we ask to the wedding?” queried +the Rev. Hucbald, rubbing his hands and looking +at the pitcher in which Sir Godfrey had mixed +the beverage.</p> + +<p>“Ask the whole county,” said Sir Godfrey. +“The more the merrier. My boy Roland will be +here to-morrow. He’ll find his sister has got +ahead of him. Have some,” he added, holding +the pitcher to the Rev. Hucbald.</p> + +<p>“I do believe I will take just a little sip,” +returned the divine. “Thanks! ah—most delicious, +Baron! A marriage on Christmas Day,” +he added, “is—ahem!—highly irregular. But +under the unusual, indeed the truly remarkable, +circumstances, I make no doubt that the +Pope——”</p> + +<p>“Drat him!” said Sir Godfrey; at which the +Chaplain smiled reproachfully, and shook a long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +transparent taper finger at his patron in a very +playful manner, saying, “Baron! now, Baron!”</p> + +<p>“My boy Roland’s learning to be a knight +over at my uncle Mortmain’s,” continued Sir Godfrey, +pouring Geoffrey another goblet. “You’ll +like him.”</p> + +<p>But Geoffrey’s thoughts were breeding more +anxiety in him every moment.</p> + +<p>“I’ll get the sealing-wax,” observed the Baron, +and went to a cabinet.</p> + +<p>“This room is stifling,” cried Geoffrey. “I +shall burst soon, I think.”</p> + +<p>“It’s my mulled Malvoisie you’re not accustomed +to,” Sir Godfrey said, as he rummaged in +the cabinet. “Open the window and get some +fresh air, my lad. Now where the deuce is my +family seal?”</p> + +<p>As Geoffrey opened the window, a soft piece +of snow flew through the air and dropped lightly +on his foot. He looked quickly and perceived a +man’s shadow jutting into the moonlight from an +angle in the wall. Immediately he plunged out +through the casement, which was not very high.</p> + +<p>“Merciful powers!” said the Rev. Hucbald,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +letting fall his quill and spoiling the first invitation, +“what an impulsive young man! Why, +he has run clean round the corner.”</p> + +<p>“’Tis all my Malvoisie,” said the Baron, hugely +delighted, and hurrying to the window. “Come +back when you’re sober!” he shouted after Geoffrey +with much mirth. Then he shut the window.</p> + +<p>“These French heads never can weather English +brews,” he remarked to the Chaplain. “But +I’ll train the boy in time. He is a rare good lad. +Now, to work.”</p> + +<p>Out in the snow, Geoffrey with his sword drawn +came upon Hubert.</p> + +<p>“Thou mayest sheathe that knife,” said the +latter.</p> + +<p>“And be thy quarry?” retorted Geoffrey.</p> + +<p>“I have come too late for that!” Hubert +answered.</p> + +<p>“Thou hast been to the bear-pit, then?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, aye!”</p> + +<p>“There’s big quarry there!” observed Geoffrey, +tauntingly. “Quite a royal bird.”</p> + +<p>“So royal the male hawk could not bring it +down by himself, I hear,” Hubert replied. “Nay,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +there’s no use in waxing wroth, friend! My +death now would clap thee in a tighter puzzle +than thou art in already—and I should be able to +laugh down at thee from a better world,” he +added, mimicking the priestly cadence, and looking +at Geoffrey half fierce and half laughing.</p> + +<p>He was but an apprentice at robbery and +violence, and in the bottom of his heart, where +some honesty still was, he liked Geoffrey well. +“Time presses,” he continued. “I must go. +One thing thou must do. Let not that pit be +opened till the monks of Oyster-le-Main come +here. We shall come before noon.”</p> + +<p>“I do not understand,” said Geoffrey.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="Hubert2" id="Hubert2"></a> +<img src="images/illo_png183.jpg" width="400" height="210" alt="Brother Hvbert goeth back +to Oyster-le-Main for ye last Time" title="Brother Hvbert goeth back +to Oyster-le-Main for ye last Time" /> +</div> + +<p>“That’s unimportant,” answered Hubert.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +“Only play thy part. ’Tis a simple thing to +keep a door shut. Fail, and the whole of us +are undone. Farewell.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, this is some foul trick,” Geoffrey declared, +and laid his hand on Hubert.</p> + +<p>But the other shook his head sadly. “Dost +suppose,” he said, “that we should have abstained +from any trick that’s known to the accumulated +wisdom of man? Our sport is up.”</p> + +<p>“’Tis true,” Geoffrey said, musingly, “we hold +all of you in the hollow of one hand.”</p> + +<p>“Thou canst make a present of us to the +hangman in twenty minutes if thou choosest,” +said Hubert.</p> + +<p>“Though ’twould put me in quite as evil +case.”</p> + +<p>“Ho! what’s the loss of a woman compared +with death?” Hubert exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Thou’lt know some day,” the young knight +said, eying Hubert with a certain pity; “that is, +if ever thou art lucky to love truly.”</p> + +<p>“And is it so much as that?” murmured Hubert +wistfully. “’Twas good fortune for thee +and thy sweetheart I did not return to look for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +my master while he was being taken to the pit,” +he continued; “we could have stopped all your +mouths till the Day of Judgment at least.”</p> + +<p>“Wouldst thou have slain a girl?” asked Geoffrey, +stepping back.</p> + +<p>“Not I, indeed! But for my master I would +not be so sure. And he says I’ll come as far as +that in time,” added the apprentice with a shade +of bitterness.</p> + +<p>“Thou art a singular villain,” said Geoffrey, +“and wonderfully frank spoken.”</p> + +<p>“And so thou’rt to be married?” Hubert said +gently.</p> + +<p>“By this next noon, if all goes well!” exclaimed +the lover with ardour.</p> + +<p>“Heigho!” sighed Hubert, turning to go, +“’twill be a merry Christmas for somebody.”</p> + +<p>“Give me thy hand,” cried Geoffrey, feeling +universally hearty.</p> + +<p>“No,” replied the freebooter; “what meaning +would there be in that? I would sever thy jugular +vein in a moment if that would mend the +broken fortunes of my chief. Farewell, however. +Good luck attend thee.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>The eyes of both young men met, and without +unkindness in them.</p> + +<p>“But I am satisfied with my calling,” Hubert +asserted, repudiating some thought that he imagined +was lurking in Geoffrey’s look. “Quite +content! It’s very dull to be respectable. Look! +the dawn will discover us.”</p> + +<p>“But this plan?” cried Geoffrey, hastening +after him; “I know nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Thou needest know nothing. Keep the door +of the pit shut. Farewell.”</p> + +<p>And Geoffrey found himself watching the black +form of Hubert dwindle against the white rises +of the ground. He walked towards the tavern +in miserable uncertainty, for the brief gust of +elation had passed from his heart. Then he +returned irresolute, and looked into the pit. +There was Sir Francis, dressed in the crocodile.</p> + +<p>“Come in, come in, young fellow! Ha! ha! +how’s thy head?” The Baron was at the window, +calling out and beckoning with vigour.</p> + +<p>Geoffrey returned to the study. There was no +help for it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> + +<p>“We have written fifty-nine already!” said the +Rev. Hucbald.</p> + +<p>But the youth cast a dull eye upon the growing +heap, and sealed them very badly. What pleasure +was it to send out invitations to his own +wedding that might never be coming off?</p> + +<p>As for Hubert out in the night, he walked +slowly through the wide white country. And as +he went across the cold fields and saw how the +stars were paling out, and cast long looks at the +moon setting across the smooth snow, the lad’s +eyes filled so that the moon twinkled and shot +rays askew in his sight. He thought how the +good times of Oyster-le-Main were ended, and +he thought of Miss Elaine so far beyond the +reach of such as he, and it seemed to him that he +was outside the comfortable world.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 2em"><a name="tail5" id="tail5"></a> +<img src="images/illo_png187.jpg" width="150" height="153" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 2em"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +<img src="images/illo_png188.jpg" width="350" height="430" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png189.jpg); height: 100%;"> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> + +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:214px; height:315px;"> </div> + + +<p style="padding-top: 7em; text-indent: 0em"><span style="text-transform: uppercase">ow</span> are all the people +long awake and out of +their beds. Wantley +Manor is stirring busily +in each quarter of the +house and court, and +the whole county likewise +is agog. By seven o’clock this morning it +was noised in every thatched cottage and in every +gabled hall that the great Dragon had been captured. +Some said by Saint George in person, +who appeared riding upon a miraculous white +horse and speaking a tongue that nobody could +understand, wherefore it was held to be the +language common in Paradise. Some declared +Saint George had nothing to do with it, and that +this was the pious achievement of Father Anselm. +Others were sure Miss Elaine had fulfilled the +legend and conquered the monster entirely by +herself. One or two, hearing the event had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +taken place in Sir Godfrey’s wine-cellar, said +they thought the Baron had done it,—and were +immediately set down as persons of unsound +mind. But nobody mentioned Geoffrey at all, +until the Baron’s invitations, requesting the +honour of various people’s presence at the marriage +of his daughter Elaine to that young man, +were received; and that was about ten o’clock, +the ceremony being named for twelve that day +in the family chapel. Sir Godfrey intended the +burning of the Dragon to take place not one +minute later than half-past eleven. Accordingly, +besides the invitation to the chapel, all friends +and neighbours whose position in the county or +whose intimacy with the family entitled them to +a recognition less formal and more personal, received +a second card which ran as follows: “Sir +Godfrey Disseisin at home Wednesday morning, +December the twenty-fifth, from half after eleven +until the following day. Dancing; also a Dragon +will be roasted. R. S. V. P.” The Disseisin +crest with its spirited motto, “Saute qui peult,” +originated by the venerable Primer Disseisin, +followed by his son Tortious Disseisin, and borne<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +with so much renown in and out of a hundred +battles by a thousand subsequent Disseisins, ornamented +the top left-hand corner.</p> + +<p>“I think we shall have but few refusals,” said +the Rev. Hucbald to Sir Godfrey. “Not many +will be prevented by previous engagements, I +opine.” And the Chaplain smiled benignly, rubbing +his hands. He had published the banns of +matrimony three times in a lump before breakfast. +“Which is rather unusual,” he said; “but +under the circumstances we shall easily obtain a +dispensation.”</p> +</div> + +<p>“In providing such an entertainment for the +county as this will be,” remarked the Baron, “I +feel I have performed my duty towards society +for some time to come. No one has had a +dragon at a private house before me, I believe.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, surely not,” simpered the sleek Hucbald. +“Not even Lady Jumping Jack.”</p> + +<p>“Fiddle!” grunted the Baron. “She indeed! +Fandangoes!”</p> + +<p>“She’s very pious,” protested the Rev. Hucbald, +whom the lady sometimes asked to fish +lunches in Lent.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Fandangoes!” repeated the Baron. He had +once known her exceedingly well, but she pursued +variety at all expense, even his. As for +refusals, the Chaplain was quite right. There +were none. Nobody had a previous engagement—or +kept it, if they had.</p> + +<p>“Good gracious, Rupert!” (or Cecil, or Chandos, +as it might be,) each dame in the county had +exclaimed to her lord on opening the envelope +brought by private hand from Wantley, “we’re +asked to the Disseisins to see a dragon,—and his +daughter married.”</p> + +<p>“By heaven, Muriel, we’ll go!” the gentleman +invariably replied, under the impression that +Elaine was to marry the Dragon, which would +be a show worth seeing. The answers came +flying back to Wantley every minute or two, +most of them written in such haste that you +could only guess they were acceptances. And +those individuals who lived so far away across +the county that the invitations reached them too +late to be answered, immediately rang every bell +in the house and ordered the carriage in frantic +tones.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> + +<p>Of <i>course</i> nobody kept any engagement. Sir +Guy Vol-au-Vent (and none but a most abandoned +desperado or advanced thinker would be +willing to do such a thing on Christmas) had +accepted an invitation to an ambush at three for +the slaying of Sir Percy de Résistance. But the +ambush was put off till a more convenient day. +Sir Thomas de Brie had been going to spend his +Christmas at a cock-fight in the Count de Gorgonzola’s +barn. But he remarked to his man +Edward, who brought the trap to the door, that +the Count de Gorgonzola might go —— Never +mind what he remarked. It was not nice; +though oddly enough it was exactly the same +remark that the Count had made about Sir +Thomas on telling his own man James to drive +to Wantley and drop the cock-fight. All these +gentlemen, as soon as they heard the great news, +started for the Manor with the utmost speed.</p> + +<div class="backleft" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png194.jpg); height: 100%;"><a name="debrie" id="debrie"></a> + +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:340px; height:60px;"> </div> +<div class="sandbag-left" style="width:185px; height:260px;"> </div> + +<p>Nor was it the quality alone who were so +unanimous in their feelings. The Tenantry (to +whom Sir Godfrey had extended a very hospitable +bidding to come and they should find +standing-room and good meat and beer in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +court-yard) went +nearly mad. From +every quarter of +the horizon they +came plunging and +ploughing along. +The sun blazed +down out of a sky +whence a universal +radiance seemed to +beat upon the blinding +white. Could +you have mounted up bird-fashion over the +country, you would have seen the Manor like +the centre of some great wheel, with narrow +tracks pointing in to it from the invisible rim +of a circle, paths wide and narrow, converging +at the gate, trodden across the new snow from +anywhere and everywhere; and moving along +these like ants, all the inhabitants for miles<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +around. And through the wide splendour of +winter no wind blowing, but the sound of chiming +bells far and near, clear frozen drops of music in +the brittle air.</p> + +<p>Old Gaffer Piers, the ploughman, stumped +along, “pretty well for eighty, thanky,” as he +somewhat snappishly answered to the neighbours +who out-walked him on the road. They would +get there first.</p> + +<p>“Wonderful old man,” they said as they went +on their way, and quickly resumed their speculations +upon the Dragon’s capture. Farmer John +Stiles came driving his ox-team and snuffling, for +it was pretty cold, and his handkerchief at home. +Upon his wagon on every part, like swallows, +hung as many of his relations as could get on. +His mother, who had been Lucy Baker, and +grandmother Cecilia Kempe, and a litter of +cousin Thorpes. But his step-father Lewis Gay +and the children of the half-blood were not asked +to ride; farmer Stiles had bitterly resented the +second marriage. This family knew all the particulars +concerning the Dragon, for they had +them from the cook’s second cousin who was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +courting Bridget Stiles. They knew how Saint +George had waked Father Anselm up and put +him on a white horse, and how the Abbot had +thus been able to catch the Dragon by his tail in +the air just as he was flying away with Miss +Elaine, and how at that the white horse had +turned into a young man who had been bewitched +by the Dragon, and was going to marry +Miss Elaine immediately.</p> +</div> + +<p>On the front steps, shaking hands with each +person who came, was Sir Godfrey. He had +dressed himself excellently for the occasion; +something between a heavy father and an old +beau, with a beautiful part down the back of his +head where the hair was. Geoffrey stood beside +him.</p> + +<p>“My son-in-law that’s to be,” Sir Godfrey +would say. And the gentry welcomed the young +man, while the tenants bobbed him respectful +salutations.</p> + +<p>“You’re one of us. Glad to know you,” said +Sir Thomas de Brie, surveying the lad with +approval.</p> + +<p>Lady Jumping Jack held his hand for a vanishing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +moment you could hardly make sure of. “I +had made up my mind to hate you for robbing +me of my dearest girl,” she said, smiling gayly, +and fixing him with her odd-looking eyes. “But +I see we’re to be friends.” Then she murmured +a choice nothing to the Baron, who snarled +politely.</p> + +<p>“Don’t let her play you,” said he to Geoffrey +when the lady had moved on. And he tapped +the youth’s shoulder familiarly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’ve been through all that sort of thing +over in Poictiers,” Geoffrey answered with indifference.</p> + +<p>“You’re a rogue, sir, as I’ve told you before. +Ha! Uncle Mortmain, how d’ye do? Yes, this +is Geoffrey. Where’s my boy Roland? Coming, +is he? Well, he had better look sharp. It’s +after eleven, and I’ll wait for nobody. How d’ye +do, John Stiles? That bull you sold me ’s costing +thirty shillings a year in fences. You’ll find +something ready down by those tables, I think.”</p> + +<p>Hark to that roar! The crowd jostled together +in the court-yard, for it sounded terribly +close.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> + +<p>“The Dragon’s quite safe in the pit, good +people,” shouted Sir Godfrey. “A few more +minutes and you’ll all see him.”</p> + +<p>The old gentleman continued welcoming the +new arrivals, chatting heartily, with a joke for +this one and a kind inquiry for the other. But +wretched Geoffrey! So the Dragon was to be +seen in a few minutes! And where were the +monks of Oyster-le-Main? Still, a bold face +must be kept. He was thankful that Elaine, +after the custom of brides, was invisible. The +youth’s left hand rested upon the hilt of his +sword; he was in rich attire, and the curly hair +that surrounded his forehead had been carefully +groomed. Half-way up the stone steps as he +stood, his blue eyes watching keenly for the +monks, he was a figure that made many a humble +nymph turn tender glances upon him. Old Piers, +the ploughman, remained beside a barrel of running +ale and drank his health all day. For he +was a wonderful old man.</p> + +<p>Hither and thither the domestics scurried +swiftly, making preparations. Some were cooking +rare pasties of grouse and ptarmigan, goslings<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +and dough-birds; some were setting great +tables in-doors and out; and some were piling +fagots for the Dragon’s funeral pyre. Popham, +with magnificent solemnity and a pair of new +calves, gave orders to Meeson and Welsby, and +kept little Whelpdale panting for breath with +errands; while in and out, between everybody’s +legs, and over or under all obstacles, stalked the +two ravens Croak James and Croak Elizabeth, a +big white wedding-favour tied round the neck of +each. To see these grave birds, none would +have suspected how frequently they had been in +the mince-pies that morning, though Popham had +expressly ruled (in somewhat stilted language) +that they should “take nothink by their bills.”</p> + +<p>“Geoffrey,” said the Baron, “I think we’ll +begin. Popham, tell them to light that fire +there.”</p> + +<p>“The guests are still coming, sir,” said Geoffrey.</p> + +<p>“No matter. It is half after eleven.” The +Baron showed his sun-dial, and there was no +doubt of it. “Here, take the keys,” he said, +“and bring the monster out for us.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“I’ll go and put on my armour,” suggested +the young man. That would take time; perhaps +the monks might arrive.</p> + +<p>“Why, the brute’s chained. You need no +armour. Nonsense!”</p> + +<p>“But think of my clothes in that pit, sir,—on +my wedding-day.”</p> + +<p>“Pooh! That’s the first sign of a Frenchman +I’ve seen in you. Take the keys, sir.”</p> + +<p>The crackle of the kindling fagots came to +Geoffrey’s ears. He saw the forty men with +chains that were to haul the Dragon into the +fire.</p> + +<p>“But there’s Father Anselm yet to come,” he +protested. “Surely we wait for him.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="courtyard" id="courtyard"></a> +<img src="images/illo_png200.jpg" width="400" height="135" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>“I’ll wait for nobody. He with his Crusades +and rubbish! Haven’t I got this Dragon, and +there’s no Crusade?—Ah, Cousin Modus, glad<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +you could come over. Just in time. The +sherry’s to your left. Yes, it’s a very fine day. +Yes, yes, this is Geoffrey my girl’s to marry and +all that.—What do I care about Father Anselm?” +the old gentleman resumed testily, when his +cousin Modus had shuffled off. “Come, sir.”</p> + +<p>He gave the keys into Geoffrey’s unwilling +hand, and ordered silence proclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Hearken, good friends!” said he, and all talk +and going to and fro ceased. The tenantry +stood down in the court-yard, a mass of motionless +russet and yellow, every face watching the +Baron. The gentry swarmed noiselessly out +upon the steps behind him, their handsome +dresses bright against the Manor walls. There +was a short pause. Old Gaffer Piers made a +slight disturbance falling over with his cup of +ale, but was quickly set on his feet by his neighbours. +The sun blazed down, and the growling +of the Dragon came from the pit.</p> + +<p>“Yonder noise,” pursued Sir Godfrey, “speaks +more to the point than I could. I’ll give you no +speech.” All loudly cheered at this.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think,” whispered the Rev. Hucbald<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +in the Baron’s ear, “that a little something +serious should be said on such an occasion? I +should like our brethren to be reminded——”</p> + +<p>“Fudge!” said the Baron. “For thirteen +years,” he continued, raising his voice again, +“this Dragon has been speaking for himself. +You all know and I know how that has been. +And now we are going to speak for ourselves. +And when he is on top of that fire he’ll know +how that is. Geoffrey, open the pit and get him +out.”</p> + +<p>Again there was a cheer, but a short one, for +the spell of expectancy was on all. The young +man descended into the court, and the air seemed +to turn to a wavering mist as he looked up at the +Manor windows seeking to spy Elaine’s face at +one of them. Was this to be the end? Could +he kiss her one last good-by if disaster was in +store for them after all? Alas! no glimpse of +her was to be seen as he moved along, hardly +aware of his own steps, and the keys jingling +lightly as he moved. Through the crowd he +passed, and a whispering ran in his wake followed +by deeper silence than before. He reached the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +edge of the people and crossed the open space +beyond, passing the leaping blaze of the fagots, +and so drew near the iron door of the pit. The +key went slowly into the lock. All shrank with +dismay at the roar which rent the air. Geoffrey +paused with his hand gripping the key, and there +came a sound of solemn singing over the fields.</p> + +<p>“The monks!” murmured a few under their +breath; and silence fell again, each listening.</p> + +<p>Men’s voices it was, and their chanting rose by +one sudden step to a high note that was held for +a moment, and then sank again, mellow like the +harmony of horns in a wood. Then over the +ridge from Oyster-le-Main the length of a slow +procession began to grow. The gray gowns +hung to the earth straight with scarce any waving +as the men walked. The heavy hoods reached +over each face so there was no telling its features. +None in the court-yard spoke at all, as the brooding +figures passed in under the gateway and +proceeded to the door of the bear-pit, singing +always. Howlings that seemed born of terror +now rose from the imprisoned monster; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +many thought, “evidently the evil beast cannot +endure the sound of holy words.”</p> + +<p>Elaine in her white dress now gazed from an +upper window, seeing her lover with his enemies +drawing continually closer around him.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was well for him that his death alone +would not have served to lock their secret up +again; that the white maiden in the window is +ready to speak the word and direct instant vengeance +on them and their dragon if any ill befall +that young man who stands by the iron door.</p> + +<div class="backright" style="background-image: url(images/illo_png205.jpg); height: 100%;"><a name="appearance" id="appearance"></a> + +<div class="sandbag-right" style="width:190px; height:490px;"> </div> +<div class="sandbag-right" style="width:500px; height:270px;"> </div> + +<p>The song of the monks ended. Sir Godfrey +on the steps was wondering why Father Anselm +did not stand out from the rest of the gray people +and explain his wishes. “Though he shall not +interrupt the sport, whatever he says,” thought +the Baron, and cast on the group of holy men a +less hospitable eye than had beamed on his other +guests. Geoffrey over at the iron door, surrounded +by the motionless figures, scanned each +hood narrowly and soon met the familiar eyes of +Hubert. Hubert’s gown, he noticed, bulged out +in a manner ungainly and mysterious. “Open +the door,” whispered that youth. At once Geoffrey<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +began to turn the key. +And at its grinding all held +their breath, and a quivering +silence hung over the court. +The hasty drops pattered +down from the eaves from +the snow that was melting +on the roof. Then some +strip of metal inside the lock +sprung suddenly, making a +sharp song, and ceased. +The crowd of monks pressed +closer together as the iron +door swung open.</p> + + +<p>What did Geoffrey see?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +None but the monks could tell. Instantly a +single roar more terrible than any burst out, and +the huge horrible black head and jaws of the +monster reared into the view of Sir Godfrey and +his guests. One instant the fearful vision in the +door-way swayed with a stiff strange movement +over the knot of monks that surrounded it, then +sank out of sight among them. There was a +sound of jerking and fierce clanking of chains, +mingled with loud chanting of pious sentences. +Then a plume of spitting flame flared upward +with a mighty roar, and the gray figures scattered +right and left. There along the ground +lay the monster, shrivelled, twisted in dismal +coils, and dead. Close beside his black body +towered Father Anselm, smoothing the folds +of his gray gown. Geoffrey was sheathing his +sword and looking at Hubert, whose dress bulged +out no longer, but fitted him as usual.</p> + +<p>“We have been vouchsafed a miracle,” said +Father Anselm quietly, to the gaping spectators.</p> + +<p>“There’ll be no burning,” said Geoffrey, pointing +to the shrunken skin. But though he spoke +so coolly, and repelled all besieging disturbance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +from the fortress of his calm visage and bearing, +as a bold and haughty youth should do, yet he +could scarcely hold his finger steady as it pointed +to the blackened carcase. Then all at once his +eyes met those of Elaine where she watched +from her window, and relief and joy rushed +through him. He stretched his arms towards +her, not caring who saw, and the look she sent +him with a smile drove all surrounding things +to an immeasurable distance away.</p> + +<p>“Here indeed,” Father Anselm repeated, “is +a miracle. Lo, the empty shell! The snake +hath shed his skin.”</p> + +<p>“This is very disappointing,” said Sir Godfrey, +bewildered. “Is there no dragon to roast?”</p> + +<p>“The roasting,” replied the Abbot, impressively, +“is even now begun for all eternity.” +He stretched out an arm and pointed downward +through the earth. “The evil spirit has fled. +The Church hath taken this matter into her own +hands, and claims yon barren hide as a relic.”</p> + +<p>“Well,—I don’t see why the Church can’t let +good sport alone,” retorted Sir Godfrey.</p> + +<p>“Hope she’ll not take to breaking up my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +cock-fights this way,” muttered the Count de +Gorgonzola, sulkily.</p> + +<p>“The Church cares nothing for such profane +frivolities,” observed Father Anselm with cold +dignity.</p> + +<p>“At all events, friends,” said Sir Godfrey, +cheering up, “the country is rid of the Dragon of +Wantley, and we’ve got a wedding and a breakfast +left.”</p> + +<p>Just at this moment a young horseman rode +furiously into the court-yard.</p> + +<p>It was Roland, Sir Godfrey’s son. “Great +news!” he began at once. “Another Crusade has +been declared—and I am going. Merry Christmas! +Where’s Elaine? Where’s the Dragon?”</p> +</div> + +<p>Father Anselm’s quick brain seized this chance. +He and his monks should make a more stately +exit than he had planned.</p> + +<p>“See,” he said in a clear voice to his monks, +“how all is coming true that was revealed to me +this night! My son,” he continued, turning to +young Roland, “thy brave resolve reached me +ere thou hadst made it. Know it has been +through thee that the Dragon has gone!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>Upon this there was profound silence.</p> + +<p>“And now,” he added solemnly, “farewell. +The monks of Oyster-le-Main go hence to the +Holy Land also, to battle for the true Faith. +Behold! we have made us ready to meet the +toil.”</p> + +<p>His haughty tones ceased, and he made a +sign. The gray gowns fell to the snow, and +revealed a stalwart, fierce-looking crew in black +armour. But the Abbot kept his gray gown.</p> + +<p>“You’ll stay for the wedding?” inquired Sir +Godfrey of him.</p> + +<p>“Our duty lies to the sea. Farewell, for I +shall never see thy face again.”</p> + +<p>He turned. Hubert gathered up the hide of +the crocodile and threw a friendly glance back at +Geoffrey. Then again raising their song, the +black band slowly marched out under the gate +and away over the snow until the ridge hid them +from sight, and only their singing could be heard +in the distant fields.</p> + +<p style="padding-bottom: 2em">“Well,” exclaimed Sir Godfrey, “it’s no use +to stand staring. Now for the wedding! Mistletoe, +go up and tell Miss Elaine. Hucbald, tell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +the organist to pipe up his music. And as soon +as it’s over we’ll drink the bride’s health and +health to the bridegroom. ’Tis a lucky thing +that between us all the Dragon is gone, for +there’s still enough of my Burgundy to last us +till midnight. Come, friends, come in, for everything +waits your pleasure!”</p> + + +<div class="endframe"><a name="envoi" id="envoi"></a> +<p style="padding-top: 4em; text-indent: 0em; padding-left: 7.5em">Reader, if thou hast found thy Way thus far,<br /> +Sure then I’ve writ beneath a lucky Star;<br /> +And Nothing so becomes all Journeys’ Ends<br /> +As that the Travellers should part as Friends.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dragon of Wantley, by Owen Wister + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRAGON OF WANTLEY *** + +***** This file should be named 26448-h.htm or 26448-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/4/4/26448/ + +Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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