s their predecessors.
"Pax vobiscum, domine," said the chamberlain, who happened to be at
the quay; "thou art come, doubtless, to bewail thy sins before the
cross of St. Mary's Abbey?"
"When my leisure permits, reverendissime pater; at present I seek
an immediate audience of the abbot, for whom I bear sad news."
"He is riding to meet the king. Listen, dost thou not hear the
trumpets?--that blast tells of their return together."
"Wilt thou grant me a chamber, that I may don meet apparel for the
presence?"
"It is my duty; but of thy grace--tell me whom I entertain."
"The Lord of Aescendune, and patron of your branch house there."
The chamberlain bowed low, and turned to lead his guest within the
precincts. The rowers cried "largesse," and the young noble threw
them a handful of coin.
Soon Etienne was alone in a comfortable cell, and was attiring his
person, a duty a Norman seldom neglected; nor did he despise the
luxury of a bath, to the scorn of the un-laving natives. The Norman
was the gentleman of the period, alike in etiquette, attire, and
food.
And likewise, some of the most beautiful of the animal creation are
the fiercest carnivora.
The abbot had put off his riding attire; he had clothed his feet in
dainty slippers instead of sandals, and had thrown a soft robe
around his monastic garb--contrasting strongly with the stern
attire prescribed by St. Benedict, and he was about to descend to
the hall, when the chamberlain in person told him of the arrival of
Etienne.
"Bid him share our poor meal; we will hear no bad news till we have
broken our fast; they sit ill on an empty stomach."
The chamberlain retired.
And there at the guest table in the refectory sat Etienne, and
marvelled to see how well the ascetics fared. Yet there was
refinement in their dishes; and there was little or no excess; they
drank the light wines of France, not the heavier ale and mead of
their predecessors.
The Latin grace said, they fell to. The joints of meat were passed
round, the game, the fish, and each used his fingers in the place
of forks, and then washed them in the finger glasses, which had
some purpose then to serve, ere they waved them in the air, and
then wiped them on delicate napkins.
The meal over, the abbot retired to his chamber, a pleasant room,
overlooking the river, and there he took his seat in a cosy chair
near the Gothic window, and sent for the visitor.
Etienne appeared; bent with the
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