"Tush!" exclaimed Salle querulously; "why harp for ever on that string? What matters it what has been a man's birth, if his heart is noble and his hand strong?"
"Little, mayhap," I replied; "still, I would fain have the consciousness of an interest in the past, and be at the bottom of the mystery, the solution of which might give me such an interest."
"You never will penetrate your mystery," said he in a conclusive tone.
"Now," replied I, repressing an angry feeling that stirred in my breast, "I hold not with you; for few secrets can escape an investigator who pursues the inquiry with determination; and it ever seems to me that there is a voice telling me that the truth which I pant to learn will one day be revealed; and, therefore, I continue the search after it with the ardour of a Knight of the Round Table in quest of the Sangreal."
"And what, I pray you, was the Sangreal?" asked Salle with a sneer.
"Nothing less than the sacred vessel from which the Redeemer of Mankind and his disciples ate the last supper," replied I, crossing myself devoutly; "and which Joseph of Arimathea brought, with the spear used at the crucifixion, when he came to England to convert the inhabitants to Christianity, and planted, near the abbey of Glastonbury, the miraculous thorn which blossoms every year at Christmas."
"And did the Knights of the Round Table succeed in their quest of this Sangreal?" inquired Salle.
"Yes, in truth did they," answered I, proud of my lore; "it was at length achieved by a knight named Galahad, aided by Sir Bors and Sir Percival, both champions of high renown in Christendom."
"On my faith," said Salle, almost contemptuously, "I never heard the names of these knights before, nor do I hold myself the less cheap that their names were unknown to me."
"And on my faith," exclaimed I, provoked to anger, "I did not deem that in England there existed a single aspirant to fame in arms who had not heard of the Sangreal."
"You forget that I was not reared daintily in kings' palaces," rejoined he, "but in a camp."
I bit my lip and refrained from replying to the taunt, but, as I thought of Cressy and Neville's Cross, my heart swelled with indignation.
It must by this time have been four o'clock, and we had been riding for hours without catching sight or hearing tidings of the enemy; when, just as this dialogue terminated, and we were turning a corner of the wood we had been skirting, we suddenly saw, before our eyes, an army marching northward. Reining instantly up, we drew back to escape observation, and as the winter sun, which was setting, flashed upon crested helms and rows of spears, the spectacle was inspiriting.