r wear, resembling what
is now called foulard; say was the coarsest and cheapest sort of silk,
and was used for upholstery as well as clothing.

"I have a full fair bean-flower cendall, Dame, one shilling the ell; and
a good sop-in-wine say at twopence."

The mercer, as he spoke, held up the piece of say, of a nondescript
colour, not unlike what is now termed crushed strawberry.

"That shall serve for the chamberers," said Lady Foljambe; "but the
cendall is for myself; I would have it good."

"Dame, it is principal; you shall not see better."

"Good. Measure me off six ells of the cendall, and nine of the say.
Then lay by each piece skeins of thread of silk, an ounce to the piece,
each to his colour; two ounces of violet, and two of gold twist. Enough
for this morrow."

The mercer bowed, with deft quickness executed the order, and proceeded
to pack up the remainder of his goods. When the forms were denuded of
their rich coverings, he retired into the corner, and the jeweller came
forward.

The little jeweller was less dignified, but more lively and loquacious,
than his companion the mercer. He unstrapped his pack, laid it open at
the feet of Lady Foljambe, and executed a prolonged flourish of two
plump brown hands.

"What may I lay before your Ladyship? Buttons and buttoners of de best,
paternosters of de finest, gold and silver collars, chains, crucifixes
garnished of stones and pearls; crespines, girdles of every fashion,
ouches, rings, tablets [tablets were of two sorts, reliquaries and
memorandum-books], charms, gipsers, and forcers [satchels to hang from
the waist, and small boxes], combs, spoons, caskets, collars for de
leetle dogs, bells, points [tagged laces, then much used], alners
[alms-bags, larger than purses], purses, knives, scissors, cups--what
asks your Ladyship? Behold dem all."

"Dost call thyself a jeweller?" asked Lady Foljambe, with a laugh.
"Why, thou art jeweller, silversmith, girdler, forcer-maker, and
cutler."

"Dame, I am all men to please my customers," answered the little
jeweller, obsequiously. "Will your Ladyship look? Ah, de beautiful
tings!"

"Art thou Englishman?"

"Ah! no, Madame, I am a Breton. I come from Hennebon."

A sudden flash of suspicious uneasiness lighted up the eyes of the
Countess of Montfort's gaoler. Yet had the man meant mischief, he would
scarcely have been so communicative. However that might be, Lady
Foljambe determined to get him out of t