But the Abbot might still have overcome, by his
eloquence and his entreaties, the malicious designs of the revellers,
had not Dame Magdalen Graeme given loose to the indignation which she
had long suppressed.
"Scoffers," she said, "and men of Belial--Blasphemous heretics, and
truculent tyrants----"
"Your patience, my sister, I entreat and I command you!" said the
Abbot; "let me do my duty--disturb me not in mine office!"
But Dame Magdalen continued to thunder forth her threats in the name
of Popes and Councils, and in the name of every Saint, from St.
Michael downward.
"My comrades!" said the Abbot of Unreason, "this good dame hath not
spoken a single word of reason, and therein may esteem herself free
from the law. But what she spoke was meant for reason, and, therefore,
unless she confesses and avouches all which she has said to be
nonsense, it shall pass for such, so far as to incur our statutes.
Wherefore, holy dame, pilgrim, or abbess, or whatever thou art, be
mute with thy mummery or beware the mill-dam. We will have neither
spiritual nor temporal scolds in our Diocese of Unreason!"
As he spoke thus, he extended his hand towards the old woman, while
his followers shouted, "A doom--a doom!" and prepared to second his
purpose, when lo! it was suddenly frustrated. Roland Graeme had
witnessed with indignation the insults offered to his old spiritual
preceptor, but yet had wit enough to reflect he could render him no
assistance, but might well, by ineffective interference, make matters
worse.
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