He was as lonely and unnoticed as if he had not been devoting
every energy he possessed to the safe guidance of a great army during
the past two months.
"There is nothing to complain of, sir," said Dunstan, in answer to a
disconsolate ejaculation of Gilbert's. "Your body is whole, you have
received back your belongings with nothing stolen, which is more than I
expected of the Greek muleteers, you have a new tunic and hose to wear,
and bean soup for supper. The world is not so bad as it looks."
"On the other hand," answered Gilbert, with a sour smile, "my bones
ache, my armour is rusty, and my purse is empty. Make what good cheer
you can of that."
He rose, and leaving Dunstan to set to work upon the injured coat of
mail, he took his cap and strolled out alone to breathe the afternoon
air. It was Christmas-time, and the day had been bright and clear; but
he wore no mantle, for the overwhelmingly good reason that he possessed
only one, which was in rags; and, indeed, he had been so much exposed
to bad weather of late that he was hardened to every sort of
discomfort--a little more or less was not worth counting.
Dunstan was quite right of course, and Gilbert had no reasonable cause
for complaint. The Queen would doubtless send for him on the morrow,
and had he chosen to present himself before her at once he would have
been received with honour. But he was in an ill humour with himself and
the world, and being still very young, it seemed quite natural to yield
to it rather than to reason himself into a better temper.
Pages:
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285