Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand;
Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.

SHAKESPEARE.


The scene of the pastime had been reached, and the preparations for
the hawking had already begun. The falconers brought up their birds,
the pages gave up their masters' jumping poles, and the dogs were
sniffing the air, eager for the chase to commence.

At last the jerkins were taken off, and the straps which had held the
hawks were unloosed; the dogs were sent to the front, and the real
work of the day began.

Sir George was in capital humour, and closely followed by Sir Benedict
à Woode and the others, he led off at a rare pace, with the ladies
following upon their steeds a little distance in the rear, and, behind
all, a number of admiring rustics, eager to see a little of the sport
in which it was not their lot to participate.

Sparrows were plentiful, but no other kind of bird was to be seen, and
Sir Benedict was just thinking that Sir George would have to humble
himself, when the dogs began to bark.

"Quails, as I'm alive! See!" shouted the baron, in high delight.

"And a whole bevy of them, too," added De la Zouch, turning round to
the ladies.