ill."

This was the whispered comment of one servitor in the ear of his master.
Said the other--

"Speak him fair, patron, for the love of God! For if the monks are
adverse, we are sped. Our pipe is as good as out. And perchance a yet
worse thing may happen!"

And he leaned over till his lips almost touched mine host's ear.

"My God!" gasped the latter, "what a country! Would that I were safe
back again in mine own house with green blinds in Roussillon!"

The Englishman and the Scot were now walking amicably arm in arm to and
fro in front of the inn. The Scot had quite recovered his military
demeanour, and again twirled his moustache with an air. The
silver-hilted sword shone no brighter on the morn of Killiecrankie. The
unused spurs tinkled melodiously.

The landlord stood with his hands deferentially folded. The young men
took not the faintest notice of him, but continued to pace slowly to and
fro.

Mine host of the venta of Montblanch cleared his throat. The Scot cast a
single scornful glance at him, which he caught as a dog catches a bone.

"My most noble lords," he said, "I trust that the unfortunate occurrence
of this evening will not prevent this house from having your honours'
custom in the future, and that you too will say no word of all this to
the most reverend Abbot Don Baltasar!"

"Make yourself easy on that score," said the Scot; "as soon as we are
round the corner we will forget that such a refuge for fleabitten
knaves anywhere exists out of Pandemonium!"

Lower still bowed the obsequious patron, for this was his idea of the
way a gentleman should speak to an innkeeper. Abuse showed his quality.

"Shall I order a carriage to convey your honours up to the Abbey?" said
the landlord, preparing to take his leave. "I know a patron, who has a
coach-and-six!"

"We will walk on our feet," replied the Scot, no whit abashed, "ah--in
pursuance of a vow made at Salamanca!"

The landlord withdrew, making an obeisance that was almost an oriental
salaam.

"But is the Abbot really your uncle?" inquired the Englishman, as they
set out.

"As much as you are," said the Scot, "but all the same we shall dine
with him, or my name is not Rollo Blair of Blair Castle in the shire of
Fife!"

"The Lord send it," said the Englishman devoutly; "perhaps in that case
he will part with his Priorato wine a farthing the gallon cheaper!"

CHAPTER V

THE ABBEY OF MONTBLANCH

The great monastery of Montblanc