Malbank, more often armed than in his robe."

"He must be an indifferent monk," Prosper said; "God seems not well
served in such a man's life. Holy Church would be holier without him."

"He is a great hunter, my lord," said Isoult.

"It would certainly seem so," said Prosper grimly. "Where should I
find him likeliest?"

"Lord, look for him in Martle Brush."

"Ah! And where is that?"

"Lord, it is here by," said Isoult.

Prosper looked about him sharply. He found that they had left the
heath, and were riding down a smooth grassy place into a deep valley.
The decline was dotted with young oak-trees, sparse at the top but
thickening in clusters and ranks lower down. Between the stems, but at
some distance, he could see a herd of deer feeding on the rank grass
by a brook at the bottom. Beyond the brook again the wood grew still
thicker with holly trees and yews interspersed with the oaks: the land
he could see rose more abruptly on that side, and was densely wooded
to the top of another ridge as high as that which he and Isoult
descended. The ridge itself was impenetrably dark with a forest gloom
which never left it at this season of the year. As he studied the
place, Martle Brush as he supposed it to be, he saw a hart in the herd
stop feeding and lift his head to snuff the air, then with his antlers
thrown back, trot off along the brook, and all the herd behind him.