"What hath pleased you, dear dame? I read pleasure in your eyes."

"I have heard to-day, Nigel, how you came to win that great
war-horse which stamps in our stable."

"Nay, dame; I had told you that the monks had given it to me."

"You said so, fair son, but never a word more. Yet the horse
which you brought home was a very different horse I wot, to that
which was given you. Why did you not tell me?"

"I should think it shame to talk of such a thing."

"So would your father before you, and his father no less. They
would sit silent among the knights when the wine went round and
listen to every man's deeds; but if perchance there was anyone who
spoke louder than the rest and seemed to be eager for honor, then
afterwards your father would pluck him softly by the sleeve and
whisper in his ear to learn if there was any small vow of which he
could relieve him, or if he would deign to perform some noble deed
of arms upon his person. And if the man were a braggart and would
go no further, your father would be silent and none would know it.
But if he bore himself well, your father would spread his fame far
and wide, but never make mention of himself."

Nigel looked at the old woman with shining eyes. "I love to hear
you speak of him," said he. "I pray you to tell me once more of
the manner of his death."