All looked on each other, and were silent.

"I see," said Wamba, after a short pause, "that the fool must be still

the fool, and put his neck in the venture which wise men shrink from.

You must know, my dear cousins and countrymen, that I wore russet before

I wore motley, and was bred to be a friar, until a brain-fever came

upon me and left me just wit enough to be a fool. I trust, with the

assistance of the good hermit's frock, together with the priesthood,

sanctity, and learning which are stitched into the cowl of it, I shall

be found qualified to administer both worldly and ghostly comfort to our

worthy master Cedric, and his companions in adversity."

"Hath he sense enough, thinkst thou?" said the Black Knight, addressing

Gurth.

"I know not," said Gurth; "but if he hath not, it will be the first time

he hath wanted wit to turn his folly to account."

"On with the frock, then, good fellow," quoth the Knight, "and let thy

master send us an account of their situation within the castle. Their

numbers must be few, and it is five to one they may be accessible by a

sudden and bold attack. Time wears--away with thee."

"And, in the meantime," said Locksley, "we will beset the place so

closely, that not so much as a fly shall carry news from thence. So

that, my good friend," he continued, addressing Wamba, "thou mayst

assure these tyrants, that whatever violence they exercise on the

persons of their prisoners, shall be most severely repaid upon their

own."

"Pax vobiscum," said Wamba, who was now muffled in his religious

disguise.

And so saying he imitated the solemn and stately deportment of a friar,

and departed to execute his mission.



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