deeds, and the free the manliest assertion of noble thoughts [64],
since the day when the last Athenian covered his head with his mantle,
and mutely died: and far from being the most stubborn against his
will, it was to Fitzosborne's paramount influence with the council,
that he had often owed their submission to his wishes, and their
contributions to his wars. In the very tempest of his wrath, he felt
that the blow belonged to strike on that bold head would shiver his
ducal throne to the dust. Be felt too, that awful indeed was that
power of the Church which could thus turn against him the heart of his
truest knight: and he began (for with all his outward frankness his
temper was suspicious) to wrong the great-souled noble by the thought
that he might already be won over by the enemies whom Mauger had
arrayed against his nuptials. Therefore, with one of those rare and
mighty efforts of that dissimulation which debased his character, but
achieved his fortunes, he cleared his brow of its dark cloud, and said
in a low voice, that was not without its pathos:

"Had an angel from heaven forewarned me that William Fitzosborne would
speak thus to his kinsman and brother in arms, in the hour of need and
the agony of passion, I would have disbelieved him. Let it pass----"

But ere the last word was out of his lips, Fitzosborne had fallen on
his knees before the Duke, and, clasping his hand, exclaimed, while
the tears rolled down his swarthy cheek, "Pardon, pardon, my liege!
when thou speakest thus my heart melts. What thou willest, that will
I! Church or Pope, no matter. Send me to Flanders; I will bring back
thy bride."

The slight smile that curved William's lip, showed that he was scarce
worthy of that sublime weakness in his friend. But he cordially