ace, my daughter," said the monk; "and listen to the voice of thy
mother the Church speaking through the humblest of her servants. This
legend of thine holds not a single grain of truth. 'Tis a conceit of
the common herd, set afoot by some ingenious fellow who may have
thought he was doing a great thing in devising such fantastic mixture.
True it is that the Monster is a visitation to punish the impiety of
certain members of thy family. True it is that he will not depart till
a member of that family perform a certain act. But it is to be a male
descendant."

Now Sir Godfrey's boy Roland was being instructed in knightly arts
and conduct away from home.

"Who told you that?" inquired the Baron, as the thought of his
precious wine-cellar came into his head.

"On last Christmas Eve I had a vision," replied Father Anselm. "Thy
grandfather, the brave youth who by journeying to the Holy War averted
this curse until thine own conduct caused it to descend upon us,
appeared to me in shining armour. 'Anselm,' he said, and raised his
right arm, 'the Dragon is a grievous burden on the people. I can see
that from where I am. Now, Anselm, when the fitting hour shall come,
and my great-grandson's years be mature enough to have made a man of
him, let him go to the next Holy War that is proclaimed, and on the
very night of his departure the curse will be removed and our family
forgiven. More than this, Anselm, if any male descendant from me
direct shall at any time attend a Crusade when it is declared, the
country will be free forever.' So saying, he dissolved out of my sight
in a silver gleaming mist." Here Father Anselm paused, and from under
his hood watched with a trifle of anxiety the effect of his speech.

There was a short silence, and then Sir Godfrey said, "Am I to
understand this thing hangs on the event of another Crusade?"

The Abbot bowed.

"Meanwhile, till that event happen, the Dragon can rage unchecked?"

The Abbot bowed again.

"Will there be another Crusade along pretty soon?" Sir Godfrey
pursued.

"These things lie not in human knowledge," replied Father Anselm. He
little dreamed what news the morrow's sun would see.

"Oh, my sheep!" groaned many a poor farmer.

"Oh, my Burgundy!" groaned Sir Godfrey.

"In that case," exclaimed Elaine, her cheeks pink with excitement, "I
shall try the virtue of the legend, at any rate."

"Most impious, my daughter, most impious will such conduct be in the
sight of Moth