"I pray you, Sir Knight," said Rowena, "to cease a language so commonly
used by strolling minstrels, that it becomes not the mouth of knights or
nobles. Certes, you constrain me to sit down, since you enter upon such
commonplace terms, of which each vile crowder hath a stock that might
last from hence to Christmas."
"Proud damsel," said De Bracy, incensed at finding his gallant style
procured him nothing but contempt--"proud damsel, thou shalt be as
proudly encountered. Know then, that I have supported my pretensions to
your hand in the way that best suited thy character. It is meeter for
thy humour to be wooed with bow and bill, than in set terms, and in
courtly language."
"Courtesy of tongue," said Rowena, "when it is used to veil churlishness
of deed, is but a knight's girdle around the breast of a base clown. I
wonder not that the restraint appears to gall you--more it were for your
honour to have retained the dress and language of an outlaw, than
to veil the deeds of one under an affectation of gentle language and
demeanour."
"You counsel well, lady," said the Norman; "and in the bold language
which best justifies bold action I tell thee, thou shalt never leave
this castle, or thou shalt leave it as Maurice de Bracy's wife. I am
not wont to be baffled in my enterprises, nor needs a Norman noble
scrupulously to vindicate his conduct to the Saxon maiden whom he
distinguishes by the offer of his hand. Thou art proud, Rowena, and thou
art the fitter to be my wife. By what other means couldst thou be raised
to high honour and to princely place, saving by my alliance? How else
wouldst thou escape from the mean precincts of a country grange, where
Saxons herd with the swine which form their wealth, to take thy seat,
honoured as thou shouldst be, and shalt be, amid all in England that is
distinguished by beauty, or dignified by power?"
"Sir Knight," replied Rowena, "the grange which you contemn hath been
my shelter from infancy; and, trust me, when I leave it--should that
day ever arrive--it shall be with one who has not learnt to despise the
dwelling and manners in which I have been brought up."
"I guess your meaning, lady," said De Bracy, "though you may think it
lies too obscure for my apprehension. But dream not, that Richard Coeur
de Lion will ever resume his throne, far less that Wilfred of Ivanhoe,
his minion, will ever lead thee to his footstool, to be there welcomed
as the bride of a favourite. Another suitor might feel jealousy while he
touched this string; but my firm purpose cannot be changed by a passion
so childish and so hopeless. Know, lady, that this rival is in my power,
and that it rests but with me to betray the secret of his being within
the castle to Front-de-Boeuf, whose jealousy will be more fatal than
mine."