"Ha! bones and body o' me, not so! For here sit I, and here angle I,
fish or no fish, thunder o' God, yes! Aye, verily, here will I sit till
I have caught me a fish, or weary and go o' my own free will—by
Beelzebub I vow, by Bel and the Dragon I swear it! And furthermore—"
Sir Benedict paused, tilted his head and glancing up, beheld the lady Abbess within a yard of them. Gracious she stood in her long white habit and shook her stately head in grave rebuke, but beholding his abashed look and how the rod sagged in his loosened hold, her lips parted of a sudden and her teeth gleamed in a smile wondrous young and pleasant to see.
"O Benedict!" said she, "O child most disobedient! O sir knight! Is this thy chivalry, noble lord—to steal away for that a poor soul must needs sleep, being, alas! so very mortal?"
"Forsooth and indeed, dear my lady," quoth Sir Benedict, fumbling with his angle, "the sun did woo me forth—and the wind, see you—the wind—"
"Nay, I see it not, my lord, but I did hear something of thy fearsome, great oaths as I came hither."
"Oaths, lady?" said Sir Benedict, fingering his chin, "Forsooth and did I so? Mayhap 'twas by reason that the fish, see you, the pestilent fish—Ha! Saint Benedict! I have a bite!" Up sprang Sir Benedict, quite forgetting his wounded arm, capering lightly to and fro, now in the water, now out, with prodigious stir and splash and swearing oaths galore, until, his pallid cheek flushed and bright eyes a-dance, he had won the fish into the shallows and thence landed it right skilfully, where it thrashed and leapt, flashing in the sun.
"Ha, Yolande!" he cried, "in the golden days thou wert ever fond of a goodly trout fresh caught and broiled upon a fire of—"
"Benedict!" cried the Abbess, and, all forgetful of his hurt, caught him by his wounded arm, "O Sir Benedict!" Now, man of iron though he seemed, Sir Benedict must needs start and flinch beneath her hold and grow livid by reason of the sharp pain of it; whereat she loosed him of a sudden and fell away, white hands tight clasped together.
"Ah Benedict!—I have hurt thee—again!" she panted.
"Not so, 'twas when I landed the fish—my lady Abbess!" Now at this she turned away and standing thus awhile very silent, presently raised her hand, whereat came two of her gentle nuns.