"
"Thou art a fool, Adam," said the page, "and I care not a button about
the girl or her ankles--But, what the foul fiend, one must look at
something!"
"Very true, Master Roland Graeme," said his guide, "but let me pray
you to choose your objects better. Look you, there is scarce a woman
walks this High-gate with a silk screen or a pearlin muffler, but, as
I said before, she has either gentleman-usher before her, or kinsman,
or lover, or husband, at her elbow, or it may be a brace of stout
fellows with sword and buckler, not so far behind but what they can
follow close--But you heed me no more than a goss-hawk minds a yellow
yoldring."
"O yes, I do--I do mind you indeed," said Roland Graeme; "but hold my
nag a bit--I will be with you in the exchange of a whistle." So
saying, and ere Adam Woodcock could finish the sermon which was dying
on his tongue, Roland Graeme, to the falconer's utter astonishment,
threw him the bridle of his jennet, jumped off horseback, and pursued
down one of the closes or narrow lanes, which, opening under a vault,
terminate upon the main-street, the very maiden to whom his friend had
accused him of showing so much attention, and who had turned down the
pass in question.
"Saint Mary, Saint Magdalen, Saint Benedict, Saint Barnabas!" said the
poor falconer, when he found himself thus suddenly brought to a pause
in the midst of the Canongate, and saw his young charge start off like
a madman in quest of a damsel whom he had never, as Adam supposed,
seen in his life before,--"Saint Satan and Saint Beelzebub--for this
would make one swear saint and devil--what can have come over the lad,
with a wanion! And what shall I do the whilst!--he will have his
throat cut, the poor lad, as sure as I was born at the foot of
Roseberry-Topping.
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