persuasion, particularly with women. He was always his own audience:
the check, therefore, amounted to exposure, almost put him to open
shame. The Countess went on to ask, who in particular of his villeins
he had dread of, who was turbulent, who a deer-stealer, who notorious
as a witch or wise woman, who wanton and a scandalous liver? And here
the Abbot was apt with his names. There was Red Sweyn, half an outlaw
already, and by far too handy with his hunting-knife; there was
Pinwell, as merry a little rogue as ever spoiled for a cord. There
were Rogerson and Cutlaw; there was Tom Sibby, the procuress. Mald
also, a withered malignant old wife, who had once blighted a year's
increase by her dealing with the devil. Here was stuff for gallows,
pit and pillory, all dropping-ripe for the trick. For tumbril, he went
on (watching his adversary like a cat), "who so proper as black-haired
Isoult, witch, and daughter of a witch, called by men Isoult la
Desirous--and a gaunt, half-starved, loose-legged baggage she is," he
went on; "reputed of vile conversation for all the slimness of her
years--witch, and a witch's brat."

He looked sideways at the great lady as he spoke of this creature, and
saw that all was going exactly as he would wish it. He had not been
the Countess' confessor for nothing, nor had he learnt in vain the
story of her secret marriage with Fulk de Breaute, and of the murder
of this youth on Spurnt Heath one blowy Bartlemy Eve. And for this
reason he had dared to bring the name of Isoult into his catalogue of
rogues, that he knew his woman, and all woman-kind; how they hate most
in their neighbours that which they are tenderest of in themselves.
Let there be no mistake here. The Countess had been no luxurious
liver, though a most unhappy one. The truth is that, beautiful woman
as she still was, she had been a yet more beautiful girl, Countess of
Hauterive in her own right, and as such betrothed to the great Earl