to know what my feelings were, to hear this armor-
plated ass start in on it again, in the murky twilight of
tradition, before the dawn of history, while even
Lactantius might be referred to as "the late Lactan-
tius," and the Crusades wouldn't be born for five
hundred years yet? Just as he finished, the call-boy
came; so, haw-hawing like a demon, he went rattling
and clanking out like a crate of loose castings, and I
knew nothing more. It was some minutes before I
came to, and then I opened my eyes just in time to
see Sir Gareth fetch him an awful welt, and I uncon-
sciously out with the prayer, "I hope to gracious he's
killed!" But by ill-luck, before I had got half through
with the words, Sir Gareth crashed into Sir Sagramor
le Desirous and sent him thundering over his horse's