THE CHRONICLE OF CLEMENDY
young gentleman named Rupert de Launay had whispered in her ear; nay of certain occasions when he had misjudged his distance and put his mouth rather lower down; but perhaps Rupert knew something about the inwards of the ear and wished to communicate his intelligence by way of those pipes at the back of the gullet. But all these little talks had taken place the summer before, after evensong, in the alleys of the Rose Garden, and Rupert was far away, in strange countries; so it was no good speculating about him or his nice manners. Therefore in due course of time Eva de St. Pol was wed to Roger de St. Maur by my lord of Llandaff, who was observed to glance at the bridegroom rather doubtfully while he sang certain prayers as if he thought he was wasting his breath. Nevertheless the old and the young were securely tied together and Eva pledged her troth to Sir Roger to be bonour and buxom in bed and at board, and there was feasting and high holiday in the hall of Estrighoil. So the knight took home his wife, who soon began to make the castle more lively than it had ever been since Madam Maud ruled the roast, for a girl of seventeen years will chase dullness out of most places with trills of laughter and song, bright eyes, gay gowns, and all those pleasant varieties, modes, and manners which do entrance us ever. And with the young wife comes a joyous procession of keen pages and artful chambermaids, who are versed in all sorts of tricks and waggeries, and run up and down the stairs and galleries, hide in the big aumbries, and are always inventing some
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