The Lion's wife, the lovely Berengaria, scarcely ventured to come near him.

He flung the joint-stools in his tent at the heads of the officers of state, and kicked his aides-de-camp round his pavilion; and, in fact, a maid of honor, who brought a sack-posset in to his Majesty from the Queen after he came in from the assault, came spinning like a football out of the royal tent just as Ivanhoe entered it.
"Send me my drum-major to flog that woman!" roared out the infuriate King.

"By the bones of St.Barnabas she has burned the sack! By St.
Wittikind, I will have her flayed alive.

Ha, St.George! ha, St.
Richard! whom have we here ?" And he lifted up his demi-culverin, or curtal-axe--a weapon weighing about thirteen hundredweight--and was about to fling it at the intruder's head, when the latter, kneeling gracefully on one knee, said calmly, "It is I, my good liege, Wilfrid of Ivanhoe." "What, Wilfrid of Templestowe, Wilfrid the married man, Wilfrid the henpecked!" cried the King with a sudden burst of good-humor, flinging away the culverin from him, as though it had been a reed (it lighted three hundred yards off, on the foot of Hugo de Bunyon, who was smoking a cigar at the door of his tent, and caused that redoubted warrior to limp for some days after).

"What, Wilfrid my gossip?
Art come to see the lion's den?
There are bones in it, man, bones and carcasses, and the lion is angry," said the King, with a terrific glare of his eyes.