muleteer in winter--bowed, and fixing his dark eyes
upon those of his master, spoke in some foreign tongue.

"You hear what he says, the silly fellow?" said Georgios. "What?
You do not understand Greek--only Arabic? Well, he asks me to
give him money to pay for his dinner and his night's lodging. You
must forgive him, for he is but a simple peasant, and cannot
believe that anyone may be lodged and fed without payment. I will
explain to him, the pig!" And explain he did in shrill, high
notes, of which no one else could understand a word.

"There, Sir Knight, I do not think he will offend you so again.
Ah! look. He is walking off--he is sulky. Well, let him alone; he
will be back for his dinner, the pig! Oh, the wet and the wind! A
Cypriote does not mind them in his sheepskins, in which he will
sleep even in the snow."

So, Georgios still declaiming upon the shortcomings of his
servant, they went back into the hall. Here the conversation soon
turned upon other matters, such as the differences between the
creeds of the Greek and Latin churches--a subject upon which he
seemed to be an expert--and the fear of the Christians in Cyprus
lest Saladin should attempt to capture that island.

At length five o'clock came, and Georgios having first been taken
to the lavatory--it was but a stone trough--to wash his hands,
was led to the dinner, or rather to the supper-table, which stood
upon a dais in front of the entrance to the solar. Here places
were laid for six--Sir Andrew, his nephews, Rosamund, the
chaplain, Matthew, who celebrated masses in the church and ate at
the hall on feast-days, and the Cypriote merchant, Georgios
himself. Below the dais, and between it and the fire, was another
table, at which were already gathered twelve guests, being the
chief tenants of Sir Andrew and the reeves of his outlying lands.
On most days the servants of the house, with the huntsmen,
swineherds, and others, sat at a third table beyond the fire. But
as nothing would stop these from growing drunken on the good ale
at a feast, and though many ladies thought little of it, there
was no sin that Rosamund hated so much as this, now their lord
sent them to eat and drink at their ease in the barn which stood
in the courtyard with its back to the moat.

When all had taken their seats, the chaplain said grace, and the
meal began. It was rude but very plentiful. First, borne in by
the cook on a wooden platter, came a great codfish, whereof he
h