"Better try the open again." Rolfe uttered an exclamation of impatience, and my lord stamped his foot on the ground.

"What is this foolery, sir ?" the latter cried fiercely.
"The ground's well enough, and there 's sufficient light to die by." "Let the light pass, then," said his second resignedly.

"Gentlemen, are you read--Ods blood! my lord, I had not noticed the roses upon your lordship's shoes! They are so large and have such a fall that they sweep the ground on either side your foot; you might stumble in all that dangling ribbon and lace.

Allow me to remove them." He unsheathed his knife, and, sinking upon his knees, began leisurely to sever the threads that held the roses to the leather.

As he worked, he looked neither at the roses nor at my lord's angry face, but beneath his own bent arm toward the church and the town beyond.
How long he would have sawed away at the threads there is no telling; for my lord, amongst whose virtues patience was not one, broke from him, and with an oath stooped and tore away the offending roses with his own hand, then straightened himself and gripped his sword more closely.
"I've learned one thing in this d----d land," he snarled, "and that is where not to choose a second.