"Nay, but I will lend you aid," said the page, still laughing, "that
is, I will lend thee aid to thy chamber, good Adam, where thou shalt
sleep off wine and ale, ire and indignation, and awake the next
morning with as much fair wit as nature has blessed thee withal. Only
one thing I will warn thee, good Adam, that henceforth and for ever,
when thou railest at me for being somewhat hot at hand, and rather too
prompt to out with poniard or so, thy admonition shall serve as a
prologue to the memorable adventure of the switching of Saint
Michael's."
With such condoling expressions he got the crest-fallen falconer to
his bed, and then retired to his own pallet, where it was some time
ere he could fall asleep. If the messenger whom he had seen were
really Catherine Seyton, what a masculine virago and termagant must
she be! and stored with what an inimitable command of insolence and
assurance!--The brass on her brow would furbish the front of twenty
pages; "and I should know," thought Roland, "what that amounts to--And
yet, her features, her look, her light gait, her laughing eye, the art
with which she disposed the mantle to show no more of her limbs than
needs must be seen--I am glad she had at least that grace left--the
voice, the smile--it must have been Catherine Seyton, or the devil in
her likeness! One thing is good, I have silenced the eternal
predications of that ass, Adam Woodcock, who has set up for being a
preacher and a governor, over me, so soon as he has left the hawks'
mew behind him.
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