’Twas midnight, and there came a soft knock at the door of Alasco the Wise. But Alasco heard it not, for he was drinking in the wisdom of the ancients with all his senses, and his ears were deaf to all earthly sounds. + 

“Sleepest thou, my father?” said the gentle Euphemia, as she opened the door, “or is thy soul buried amidst thy books?” + 

“Daughter,” said Alasco the Wise, “my soul is buried among my books. The hour is short, and the night cometh, and he who maketh not his hay while the sun of life shineth, shall hardly garner his crop beneath the cold, damp hand of death. But for thee, my child, and thy needs, all other things shall give way.” Then he wiped his pen, and put a mark in his book, and closed his lexicon. + 

“My father,” said the girl, “didst thou hear my father’s archers, how their bows twanged this morn?” + 

“I heard a rattling as of dried peas against a windowpane,” said the sage. + 

“It was the noise, father, of the arrows as they fell upon the breast of the Lord Mountfidget. And they fell upon his back, also, and alack! one has struck him on the nape of his neck! And then he rode away. Oh, father!” + 

“And is it thus with thee, my child?” said Alasco. + 

“Thus, father,” said Euphemia. And she hid her face upon the serge of his mantle. + 

“Did I not say that love should still be lord of all?” said the sage. + 

“Spare me, father,” said the damsel. “Spare the child that has stood at thy footstool since she was as high as thy knee. Spare me, and aid me to save my lord!” + 

Then they sallied forth from the small wicket which opens into the forest from beneath the west barbican. + 