ve as
well as take."

"Peace all!" said the Captain. "And thou, Jew, think of thy ransom;
thou needest not to be told that thy race are held to be accursed in all
Christian communities, and trust me that we cannot endure thy presence
among us. Think, therefore, of an offer, while I examine a prisoner of
another cast."

"Were many of Front-de-Boeuf's men taken?" demanded the Black Knight.

"None of note enough to be put to ransom," answered the Captain; "a
set of hilding fellows there were, whom we dismissed to find them a new
master--enough had been done for revenge and profit; the bunch of them
were not worth a cardecu. The prisoner I speak of is better booty--a
jolly monk riding to visit his leman, an I may judge by his horse-gear
and wearing apparel.--Here cometh the worthy prelate, as pert as a
pyet." And, between two yeomen, was brought before the silvan throne of
the outlaw Chief, our old friend, Prior Aymer of Jorvaulx.

CHAPTER XXXIII

---Flower of warriors,
How is't with Titus Lartius?
MARCIUS.--As with a man busied about decrees,
Condemning some to death and some to exile,
Ransoming him or pitying, threatening the other.
--Coriolanus

The captive Abbot's features and manners exhibited a whimsical mixture
of offended pride, and deranged foppery and bodily terror.

"Why, how now, my masters?" said he, with a voice in which all three
emotions were blended. "What order is this among ye? Be ye Turks
or Christians, that handle a churchman?--Know ye what it is, 'manus
imponere in servos Domini'? Ye have plundered my mails--torn my cope
of curious cut lace, which might have served a cardinal!--Another in my
place would have been at his 'excommunicabo vos'; but I am placible,
and if ye order forth my palfreys, release my brethren, and restore
my mails, tell down with all speed an hundred crowns to be expended in
masses at the high altar of Jorvaulx Abbey, and make your vow to eat no
venison until next Pentecost, it may be you shall hear little more of
this mad frolic."

"Holy Father," said the chief Outlaw, "it grieves me to think that you
have met with such usage from any of my followers, as calls for your
fatherly reprehension."

"Usage!" echoed the priest, encouraged by the mild tone of the silvan
leader; "it were usage fit for no hound of good race--much less for a
Christian--far less for a priest--and least of all for the Prior of
the holy community of Jorvaulx.