exclaimed:

"Let him go; touch him if you dare; he is my foster brother; my
thrall, if anybody's."

"Like cleaves to like," said Etienne, sarcastically; "but, my fair
brother, thou wilt hardly interfere with the due course of the
law."

"Law! the law of butchers and worse than butchers--devils. Let him
go."

"Hadst thou not better try to rescue him? Thou hast not yet found
an opportunity to show thy prowess."

Wilfred lost all control, sprang at Etienne, struck him in a
downright English fashion between the eyes, and knocked him down.
The knife fell from his hand, and Wilfred seized it before the
other youths could recover from their astonishment, and flung it
into a pond close at hand.

Etienne rose up.

Now my young readers will probably anticipate a bout at fisticuffs;
but no such vulgar a combat commended itself to the proud young
Norman, even thus suddenly humiliated; neither did he, under these
very trying circumstances, lose his self command.

Yet his hatred was none the less, nor did he cherish a less deadly
design.

"Let the young brute go," said he, as he arose, pointing to Eadwin.
"There is something more important to be settled now than the
question whether the young porker shall retain his cloven hoof or
not. Wilfred, dost thou know thou hast struck a gentleman?"

"I have struck a young butcher."

"Thanks; churls fight with words; knights, and would-be knights,
with swords. Draw, then, and defend thyself; Pierre and Louis will
see fair play."

"Nay," said the other two lads with one voice, "it were a sin and
shame to fight thus, and we should have our knighthood deferred for
years did we permit it. Pages may not fight to the death without
the permission of their liege lord. The baron must give
permission."

"Wilfred, dost thou accept my challenge? I honour thy base blood in
making it."

"My ancestors were as noble as thine; nay, they ruled here while
thine were but pirates and cutthroats. I do accept it."

"Let us separate, then; we meet here at daybreak tomorrow."

"But the permission of our lord?"

"I will answer for that," replied his hopeful son.

The party separated: Wilfred took his foster brother, who had not
made the least attempt to escape from the scene, trusting to the
love of his young lord for protection, and no sooner were they
alone than the poor lad overwhelmed his deliverer with thanks, in
which tears were not unmixed, because he knew that a price had yet
to be