"Ungrateful, unspeakable fool! What mean you by such words ?" "Call me fool if you will, my Lord Bishop," said the Knight, "so long as I give not mine own conscience cause to call me knave." "What mean you by such words ?" persisted the Bishop.

"I mean, my lord, that if the truth opened out an abyss which plunged me into hell, I would sooner know it than attempt to enter Paradise across the flimsy fabric of a lie." Now during many days, Symon of Worcester had worked incessantly, suffered much, accomplished much, surrendered much, lost much.

Perhaps it is hardly to be wondered at, that, at this juncture, he lost his temper.
"By Saint Peter's keys!" he cried, "I care not, Sir Knight, whether you drop to hell or climb to Paradise.

But it is my business to see to it that you do not disturb the peace of mind of the woman you have wed.
Therefore I warn you, that if you ride from here set upon so doing, you will not reach your destination alive." The Knight smiled.

The film of weariness lifted as if by magic from his eyes, and they shone bright and serene.
"I cannot draw my sword upon threats, my Lord Bishop; but let those threats take human shape, and by Saint George, I shall find pleasure in rendering a good account of them.