Harold : the Last of the Saxon Kings — Volume 09 by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton
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that he hath no thought of my pretensions to the English throne,--that
he inclines willingly to thy suggestions to come himself to my court for the hostages,--that, in a word, he is not suspicious." "Certes, he is not suspicious," returned Mallet. "And thinkest thou that an artful castle were worth much without warder or sentry,--or a cultivated mind strong and safe, without its watchman,--Suspicion?" "Truly, my lord speaks well and wisely," said the knight, startled; "but Harold is a man thoroughly English, and the English are a gens the least suspecting of any created thing between an angel and a sheep." William laughed aloud. But his laugh was checked suddenly; for at that moment a fierce yell smote his ears, and looking hastily up, he saw his hound and his son rolling together on the ground, in a grapple that seemed deadly. William sprang to the spot; but the boy, who was then under the dog, cried out, "Laissez aller! Laissez aller! no rescue! I will master my own foe;" and, so saying, with a vigorous effort he gained his knee, and with both hands griped the hound's throat, so that the beast twisted in vain, to and fro, with gnashing jaws, and in another minute would have panted out its last. "I may save my good hound now," said William, with the gay smile of his earlier days, and, though not without some exertion of his prodigious strength, he drew the dog from his son's grasp. "That was ill done, father," said Robert, surnamed even then the |
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