XXII.
Then rode one ruffian from the rest, clay-flecked
From spur to plume with hurry; seized my rein,
And—"What art thou," demanded, "who hast checked
Our way, and challenged?"—Then, with some disdain,
Isolda, "Sir, my kinsman did expect
Your captain here. What honor may remain
To me I pledge for him. Hold off thy hands!
He but attends me to the Moated Manse."