it not, Father Aymer?«
    »It is,« replied the Prior; »and the blessed relic and rich chain will I
bestow safely in the treasury of our convent, until the decision of this warlike
challenge.«
    Having thus spoken, he crossed himself again and again, and after many
genuflections and muttered prayers, he delivered the reliquary to Brother
Ambrose, his attendant monk, while he himself swept up with less ceremony, but
perhaps with no less internal satisfaction, the golden chain, and bestowed it in
a pouch lined with perfumed leather which opened under his arm. »And now, Sir
Cedric,« he said, »my ears are chiming vespers with the strength of your good
wine - permit us another pledge to the welfare of the Lady Rowena, and indulge
us with liberty to pass to our repose.«
    »By the rood of Bromholme,« said the Saxon, »you do but small credit to your
fame, Sir Prior! Report speaks you a bonny monk, that would hear the matin chime
ere he quitted his bowl; and, old as I am, I feared to have shame in
encountering you. But, by my faith, a Saxon boy of twelve, in my time, would not
so soon have relinquished his goblet.«
    The Prior had his own reasons, however, for persevering in the course of
temperance which he had adopted. He was not only a professional peacemaker, but
from practice a hater of all feuds and brawls. It was not altogether from a love
to his neighbour, or to himself, or from a mixture of both. On the present
occasion, he had an instinctive apprehension of the fiery temper of the Saxon,
and saw the danger that the reckless and presumptuous spirit, of which his
companion had already given so many proofs, might at length produce some
disagreeable explosion. He therefore gently insinuated the incapacity of the
native of any other country to engage in the genial conflict of the bowl with
the hardy and strong-headed Saxons; something he mentioned, but slightly, about
his own holy character, and ended by pressing his proposal to depart to repose.
    The grace-cup was accordingly served round, and the guests, after making
deep obeisance to their landlord and to the Lady Rowena, arose and mingled in
the hall, while the heads of the family, by separate doors, retired with their
attendants.
    »Unbelieving dog,« said the Templar to Isaac the Jew, as he passed him in
the throng, »dost thou bend thy course to the tournament?«
    »I do so propose,«