"Thou canst do no such thing with all thy wicked arts to aid thee," scornfully replied the maiden.
"What if I could do it! Wouldst love him then?"
"Yes."
"The bastard?"
"Yes, I tell thee."
"The son of a lowborn peasant?"
"He would still be Lester to me, so long as honour and truth were the habitants of his bosom."
"Wouldst thou love him then?"
"Better and better for each misfortune he brought not on himself."
"Or serf—or galley-slave—or peasant—or bastard, he would still be Lester in the eyes of thy love?"