"
The Knight smiled.
"I knew that," he said. "In his own characteristic way the Bishop told
it me. 'My son,' he said, 'you have reversed the sacred parable. In
your case it was the bride-groom who, this morning, slumbered and
slept.' 'True, my lord,' said I. 'But there were no foolish virgins
about.' 'Nay, verily!' replied the Bishop. 'The two virgins awake at
that hour were pre-eminently wise: the one, making as the sun rose most
golden pats of butter and crusty rolls; the other, rising early to
partake of them with appetite. Truly there were no foolish virgins
about. There was but one foolish prelate.'"
She, who so lately had been Prioress of the White Ladies, flushed with
indignation at the words.
"Wherefore said he so?" she inquired, severely. "He, who is always
wiser than the wisest."
Hugh noted the heightened colour and the ready protest.
"Perhaps," he suggested, speaking slowly, as if choosing his words with
care, "the Bishop's head, being so wise, revealed to him, in himself, a
certain foolishness of heart."
Mora struck the table with her hand.
"Nay then, verily!" she cried. "Head and heart alike are wise;
and--unlike other men--the Bishop's head rules his heart."
"And a most noble heart,", the Knight said, with calmness; neither
wincing at the blow upon the table, nor at the "unlike other men,"
flung out in challenge.
Then, folding his arms upon the table, and looking searchingly into the
face of his bride: "Tell me," he said, "during all these years, has
this friendship with Symon of Worcester meant much to thee?"
Something in his tone arrested Mora.
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