THE CHRONICLE OF CLEMENDY
Humphrey de Bohun of Caldicot, to whose son I am promised; and the Baron of Burgavenny my father's brother-in-arms, and the Lord of Uske our cousin: think you that these would have warm sheets ready for us." "Well, yes; but perhaps too warm; and now I think I should like to kiss you." Then they began their game of sweetlips over again, for this was their antiphon which began and ended every thing they did. But for all that, a short time after as Sir Symon was riding with a knight of the company, named Sir Rouf de la Grave; a good natured young fellow with no guile at all in him, the Frenchman began suddenly "What do you conjecture would happen if I were to marry Bertha?" Sir Rouf jerked the reins, rubbed his eyes, and looked into Sir Symon's face, to discover if he were in earnest, but saw about as much expression there as in the face of a man who asks his sweetheart how her mother does to-day. He concluded therefore that the Frenchman being a joker, was playing on him and endeavouring to make his chin fall—that is to say to make a fool of him: and answered with as empty a face as Sir Symon's: "I suppose you would dance." "How?" "With high steps, Sir Symon, most gracefully and wondrously." "This is too deep for me; let me have your meaning plainer." "Why then you would swing." "Swing what?" "A mere trifle, no more than your body; and that to be sure would be a lighter burden than it is now, for it would be relieved of its soul before very long." "It is not possible you mean I should be hanged?" said the French knight,
[ 322 ]
