us?
Thinkest thou that the saint would ever suffer his holy thumb to fall
into the hands of the Gentiles?--never! Go to, thou art not fit to have
conduct of the King's wars. Go to, and repent, my son, or the King shall
hear of it."

"Ah, wolf in sheep's clothing!" muttered the Dane, turning on his heel;
"if thy monastery were but built on the other side the Humber!"

The cheapman heard him, and smiled. While such the scene in the
ante-room, we follow Harold into the King's presence.

On entering, he found there a man in the prime of life, and though richly
clad in embroidered gonna, and with gilt ateghar at his side, still with
the loose robe, the long moustache, and the skin of the throat and right
hand punctured with characters and devices, which proved his adherence to
the fashions of the Saxon [120]. And Harold's eye sparkled, for in this
guest he recognized the father of Aldyth, Earl Algar, son of Leofric.
The two nobles exchanged grave salutations, and each eyed the other
wistfully.

The contrast between the two was striking. The Danish race were men
generally of larger frame and grander mould than the Saxon [121]; and
though in all else, as to exterior, Harold was eminently Saxon, yet, in
common with his brothers, he took from the mother's side the lofty air
and iron frame of the old kings of the sea. But Algar, below the middle
height, though well set, was slight in comparison with Harold. His
strength was that which men often take rather from the nerve than the
muscle; a strength that belongs to quick tempers and restless energies.
His light blue eye, singularly vivid and glittering; his quivering lip,
the veins swelling at each emotion on the fair white temples; the long
yellow hair, bright as gold, and resisting, in its easy curls, all
attempts to curb it into the smooth flow most in fashion; the nervous
movements of the gesture; the somewhat sharp and hasty tones of the
voice; all opposed, as much as if the two men were of different races,
the steady, deep eye of Harold, his composed mien, sweet and majestic,
his decorous locks parted on the king-like front, with their large single
curl where they touched the shoulder. Intelligence and will were apparent
in both the men; but the intelligence of one was acute and rapid, that of
the other profound and steadfast; the will of one broke in flashes of
lightning, that of the other was calm as the summer sun at noon.

"Thou art welcome, Harold," said the