"Nay, Squire Loring," said he, "if you be a bad friend to our
Abbey, yet we must needs own that you have played the part of a
good Christian this day, for if there is breath left in our
servant's body it is to you next to our blessed patron Saint
Bernard that we owe it."
"By Saint Paul! I owe you no good-will, Abbot John," said the
young man. "The shadow of your Abbey has ever fallen across the
house of Loring. As to any small deed that I may have done this
day, I ask no thanks for it. It is not for you nor for your house
that I have done it, but only because it was my pleasure so to
do."
The Abbot flushed at the bold words, and bit his lip with
vexation.
It was the sacrist, however, who answered: "It would be more
fitting and more gracious," said he, "if you were to speak to the
holy Father Abbot in a manner suited to his high rank and to the
respect which is due to a Prince of the Church."
The youth turned his bold blue eyes upon the monk, and his
sunburned face darkened with anger. "Were it not for the gown
upon your back, and for your silvering hair, I would answer you in
another fashion," said he. "You are the lean wolf which growls
ever at our door, greedy for the little which hath been left to
us. Say and do what you will with me, but by Saint Paul! if I
find that Dame Ermyntrude is baited by your ravenous pack I will
beat them off with this whip from the little patch which still
remains of all the acres of my fathers.
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