nded, there was plenty of applause from all
save the two monks. They eyed her with a displeasure they took no
trouble to conceal; and when she tripped lightly over to them and
extended her tambourine for an offering they drew back sourly.

"Avaunt, foul baggage!" the elder exclaimed. "Have you no shame to ply
your lewd vocation before a priest of God? Verily, you do well to hide
your face behind a mask."

The girl drew back timidly, and with never a word in reply passed on to
the two men-at-arms. Here she got a different sort of greeting.

"Do not fret your pretty eyes over that pair of hypocrites in black,
yonder," one of them exclaimed loudly and speaking directly at the
Benedictines; "they are holy only in a crowd. If they met you when
none else were near, they would tear off each other's gowns to be the
first in your favors."

"Right, comrade mine, right!" laughed his companion, bringing his fist
down upon the table until the mugs rattled.

The two monks turned upon them.

"You godless men," said one sternly; "it is well you bear no badge of
maintenance, else would your lord have chance to work some wholesome
discipline upon you."

But the men-at-arms only laughed derisively and made no response.

Meanwhile the damsel had approached the strange Knight and sought a
gratuity. With ostentatious display he drew out a quarter noble and
dropped it on the tambourine. Then as she curtsied in acknowledgment
he leaned forward, and caught her arm.

"Come, little one, show me your face," he said.

With a startled cry the girl sprang back and struggled to get free.
But the Knight only smiled and drew her slowly to his knee, shifting
his arm to her waist.

"Pardieu! my dear, be not so timid," he scoffed. "Kiss me and I may
release you."

For answer she struck at him with the tambourine, cutting his chin with
one of the metal discs so that the blood oozed out.

"Little devil!" he muttered; and without more ado bent back her head,
whispering something the while.

With a last desperate effort to free herself, which was futile, and
with the dark face drawing with mocking slowness toward her own, she
realized her utter helplessness and cried appealingly for aid.

In a trice, she was seized and torn away; and between her and her
assailant, and facing him, stood Sir Aymer de Lacy, his arms folded and
a contemptuous smile upon his lips. The next instant, without a word,
the other plucked out his dagger and lea