There was a bishop present who blessed the meats, but Etienne could
have spared the presence of Geoffrey of Coutances, whom he knew as
the friend of Wilfred, and the author of many inconvenient (and, as
Etienne thought, impertinent) inquiries about that young
unfortunate, after the burning of the old priory.
Who shall describe the splendour of that feast? We will not attempt
it, nor will we try to analyse the feelings of the country youth so
suddenly introduced into so brilliant an assembly.
But amidst the intoxication of the scene his mind continually
wandered to the sombre forests, the blackened marsh, the Dismal
Swamp, and his desolated home; and he would almost have given his
very soul to stand face to face, foot to foot, with his youthful
rival, sword in hand, with none to interfere between them, and so
to end the long suspense.
While some such dream was floating before his imagination, and its
details were painted vivid as life upon the retina of the mind, a
quiet voice, but one not without some authority, whispered in his
ears:
"My son, I would fain ask thee of a youth in whom I am somewhat
interested, and who is, I am told, yet alive, risen, as it were,
from the dead--Wilfred of Aescendune."
Etienne's face would have made a fine study for a painter, as he
encountered the gaze of Geoffrey, Bishop of Coutances.
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