a brief hesitation, he turned his galloway, and told his companions
he should give them good day.

"Why, what is in the wind now, brother Peter?" said Friar Michael.

"The lady Matilda," said the little friar, "can draw the long-bow. She
must bear no goodwill to Sir Ralph; and if she should espy him from
her tower, she may testify her recognition with a cloth-yard shaft.
She is not so infallible a markswoman, but that she might shoot at a crow
and kill a pigeon. She might peradventure miss the knight, and hit me,
who never did her any harm."

"Tut, tut, man," said brother Michael, "there is no such fear."

"Mass," said the little friar, "but there is such a fear,
and very strong too. You who have it not may keep your way,
and I who have it shall take mine. I am not just now in the vein
for being picked off at a long shot." And saying these words,
he spurred up his four-footed better half, and galloped off
as nimbly as if he had had an arrow singing behind him.

"Is this lady Matilda, then, so very terrible a damsel?"
said Sir Ralph to brother Michael.

"By no means," said the friar. "She has certainly a high spirit;
but it is the wing of the eagle, without his beak or his claw.
She is as gentle as magnanimous; but it is the gentleness of the
summer wind, which, however lightly it wave the tuft of the pine,
carries with it the intimation of a power, that, if roused
to its extremity, could make it bend to the dust."