The Umbrian hung his head, and hastily gobbled up a liver-wing.
"A delusion of the eye—a snare of the senses, my son. Maybe your thoughts run too much upon women."
Erceldoune swept the board bare of all the untasted fare.
"By my faith! you are a good comrade. I have brandy that will make you dream yourself in paradise, and we would have had a carouse with it tonight; but since you tell me such lies, when my own eyes saw her yonder, you shall have no drop of the cognac as long as you live, and every fish I have heaped on these banks I will fling back in the lakes again, and leave you to fill your own buttery as you best may!"
The Umbrian, terrified and aghast at what he had lost, seized the ends of his companion's sash imploringly:
"Oh, my son! do not be so rash. Set down the good food; to waste it is a sin. You did see her; you are right. But, for pity's sake, never breathe it."
"What is she, then?" asked Erceldoune, as he gave back the birds and trout, that had served him so well, into the eager hands of the monk. "And
