"Nay," rejoined the friar, "I brought not his heels round, he brought them himself, and me along with them. It was all intended to cast me off; so the offence is towards myself, and I shall punish him severely. He shall have five barley-corns of food less for his misbehaviour."
"Psha!" said the serving-man, looking up at the inn. "You are jesting foully, friar; I am sorry I let you join us. Is this the hostel you boasted had such good wine? It seems but a poor place for such commendation."
"Thou shalt find the liquor better than in any house in Hereford," replied he of the grey gown; "whether you choose mead, or metheglin, or excellent warm Burgundy, or cool Bordeaux. Taste and try--taste and try; and if you find that I have deceived you, you shall cut me into pieces not an inch square, and sow me along the high road! There is good lodging, too.--Canst thou not trust a friar?"
The man grumbled forth some reply not very laudatory of the order to which his fat friend belonged; and in a few minutes after, the whole party were seated in a hall, which, for the time being, lacked other tenants. The usual hour of supper was over, and in many a hostelry of those days the wayfarers would have found no food in such a case, unless they brought it with them. But the host was a compassionate man, and, moreover, knew right well the twinkle of the jolly friar's eye, so that, for old friendship's sake, many a savoury mess was speedily set before them, together with a large flagon of wine, which fully bore out the character that had been given to it by the friar as they rode along.
Under the influence of such consolations, the serving-man forgot his bruise; and the lady, laying aside her veil, shewed a pretty face, with which the reader is in some part acquainted, being none other than that which, once happy and bright, graced the door of the little village inn under the name of Kate Greenly. There was some sadness upon that fair countenance--the cheerful smile was gone, although there was a smile of a different character still left. The freshness, the ease, the lightness, were all wanting; though there was greater depth of thought and feeling in the expression than during the pleasant days of village sport and girlish coquetry. The rough touch of passion had brushed the bloom from the fruit, and Kate Greenly, in look at least, was three or four years older than a few weeks before.
As she put aside her veil to take part in the meal, the eye of the friar fixed upon her, till she reddened under his gaze, looking half angry, half abashed; but the moment after, the colour became deeper still, when he said, "Methinks, fair lady, I have seen that sweet face before."
"Perhaps so," she replied--"I cannot tell. There's many a wandering friar comes to my father's door; but I heed them not, good sooth."
The friar laughed, answering gaily--
"Beauty, fair girl, is like the sun--
Is marked by all, but marketh none."
"Try some of these stewed eels, pretty one; they are worthy of the Wye, whose waters have no mud to give them a foul flavour. Try them--try them--they are good for the complexion: and now, Master Serving-man, what think you of the wine? Did you ever taste better out of the spare tankard which the butler hideth behind the cellar door?"