THE CHRONICLE OF CLEMENDY
more, though he made himself rather ill by drinking the vile concoctions flavoured and spiced by a doctor of medicine, who had won a high repute by his treatment of these cases. It is to be feared however (by the leave of the Fratres Fraternitatis R. C.) that no beverages, though they be sopho-spagirically concocted can make a young man out of an old one; certainly they did Sir Roger more harm than good and made him say ill-natured things of the physician and smash his vials. Hence poor Eva became very melancholy for want of love, and hushed her joyous singing and laughter, and spoke seldom and in a plaintive voice to the distress of her husband, who was happy in all else and especially in his son who grew every day to be a fine specimen of the stout old stock of St. Maur. And the pages looked at Eva slyly, as if they knew what ailed her, and with her women she often wept over her fate, as they worked at the tapestry; but it seemed as if there was no help for it, since Sir Roger was not likely to grow more vigorous as he got older. It is not to be wondered at then that Eva became fantastic in her habits, and thought strange sick thoughts within herself; on Monday she would be racing all over the house and making everybody stare at her frolics, and on Tuesday she sat in the same place from Prime to Evensong, spoke not a word, and ate nothing. On Wednesday she would hardly leave the Lady Chapel of the church, but on Thursday her romping mood returned again; so that in one way or another she did her best to torment her husband and her companions out of
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