in the street once more.

"Coward clown!" burst forth Gaston at once. "Would that I could
send all his grinning teeth down the false throat of him!"

"Whose? What mean you?"

"Whose but that sulky recreant, Ashton? He has done well to obtain
knighthood, or I would beat him within an inch of his life with my
halbert, and if he dared challenge me, slay him as I would a carrion
crown! He a Knight! Thanks to his acres and to Lord Pembroke!"

"Patience, patience, Gaston--I have not yet heard of what he
accuses me."

"No! he has learnt policy--he saith it not openly! He would deny
it, as did his Esquire when I taxed him with it! Would that you
could not tell a letter! Sir Eustace, of your favour let me burn
every one of your vile books."

"My innocent friends! Nay, nay, Gaston--they are too knightly to
merit such measure. Then it is the old accusation of witchcraft,
I suppose. So I was in league with the Castilian witch and her
cats, was I?"

"Ay; and her broom-stick or her cats wafted you to Lynwood, where
you suddenly stood in the midst of the mourners, borne into the
hall on a howling blast! How I got there, I am sorry to say, the
craven declared not, lest I should give him the lie at once!"