"And I told you true, sir chit!" replied the old woman, bridling at the tone of reproach the page adopted. "I told you true.--There, drink your wine--it is well mulled now;--take care you do not split the horn, pouring it in so hot.--I told you true enough--I had no lodger this morning, when you went; but, half an hour after, came one who had ridden all night, with a great boutiau at his saddle, that would hold four quarts. Cursed be those boutiaus! they cut us vintners' combs. Every man carries his wine with him, and never sets foot in a hostelry but to feed his horse."
"But the traveller!--the traveller!--Good dame, tell me," cried the page, "what manner of man was he?"
"A goodly man, i'faith," replied the landlady. "Taller than thou art, sir page, by a hand's breadth. He had been in a fray, I warrant, for his eye was covered over with a patch, and his nose broken across. He too would fain not be seen, and made me put him in a guest-chamber at the end of the dormitory. He calls himself Alberic, though that is nothing to me or any one: and there was a Norman came to speak with him an hour after he came; but that is nothing to me either."
"Hark, dame! hark! I hear horses," cried the page, starting up in no small trepidation, "Where can I hide me? Where?" and, even as he asked the question, he began to climb the stairs, that came almost perpendicularly down into the centre of the room, with all the precipitation of fear.
"Not there!--not there!" cried the old woman; "thou wilt meet that Alberic. Into that cupboard;" and, seizing the page by the arm, she pushed him into a closet filled with faggots and brushwood for replenishing the kitchen fire. Under this heap he ensconced himself as well as he might, paying no regard to the skin of his hands and face, which was very sufficiently scratched in the operation of diving down to the bottom of the pile. The old lady, who seemed quite familiar with all such manœuvres, while the sound of approaching horses came nearer and nearer, arranged what he had disarranged in his haste, sat down by the fire, tossed off the remainder of the wine in the pipkin, and began to spin quietly, while the horses' feet that had startled the page clattered on through the village. In a moment after, they stopped at the door; and, at the same time, a heavy footfall was heard pacing forward above, as if some one, disturbed also by the sounds, approached to listen at the head of the stairs.
"Ho! Within there!" cried some person without, after having pushed the door, and found it bolted.--"Ho! Within there! Open, I say."
The old dame ran forward, taking care to make her feet give audible sounds of haste upon the floor; and, instantly unfastening the door, she stood becking and bowing to the strangers, as they dismounted from their horses and entered the kitchen.
"God save ye, fair sir!--God save ye, noble gentlemen. Welcome, welcome!--Lord! Lord! I have not seen such a sight of noble faces since good king John's army went. The blessing of God be upon him and them! He is a right well favoured and kingly lord! Bless his noble eyes, and his sweet low forehead, and send him plenty of crowns to put upon it!"
"How, dame! Dost thou know King John?" asked one of the strangers, laying his hand upon the hostess's shoulders, with an air of kindly familiarity. "But thou mistakest. I have heard he is villanous ugly. Ha!"
"Lord forgive you, sire, and St. Luke the apostate!" cried the old woman. "He is the sweetest gentleman you ever set your eyes on. Many a time have I seen him when the army was here; and so handsome he is! Lord, Lord!"