Читать «Айвенго / Ivanhoe» онлайн - страница 22

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Black Knight, who had left the tournament without receiving his reward, was travelling to the North. But when he went into the big forest, he lost his way and decided to find some place to stay for the night. He soon came to a hermit’s hut at the bottom of a big rock with a rude wooden cross near the door. Not far from this hut there was a fountain of pure water which was the beginning of a small forest river.

The knight jumped from his horse and knocked on the door. At first the monk didn’t want to open it, but the knight insisted that he would go no further that night, and the monk let him in.

The hermit was a big and strong man in a hood which covered his face. There was little furniture inside the hut: a bed of leaves, a rude oaken cross, a prayer-book, a table and two stools.

The hermit refreshed the fire with some dry wood.

They sat down and looked at each other, each thinking that he had seldom seen a stronger or a more athletic figure than that which was placed opposite to him.

Then the monk put on the table a plate with some fried peas and a jug of water and set example to his guest by modestly putting into a very large mouth three or four peas.

The knight took off his helmet and most of his armour and showed to the hermit a head with yellow hair, blue eyes, remarkably bright and sparkling, and mustache darker than his hair. This was a face of a bold and energetic man.

The hermit, as if wishing to answer to the confidence of his guest, threw back his hood, and showed a face which was not like a face of an ascetic. His cheeks were as round and red as those of a trumpeter. Together with his massive figure, this showed that the monk ate something else in addition to peas, and his guest noticed it.

“It seems to me, father,” said the knight, “that this poor food makes miracles with you. Holy father, can I ask your name?”

“You can call me,” answered the hermit, “the Monk of Copmanhurst, that’s how I am called in these parts—They add the word ‘holy’, but I don’t insist on that. – And now, brave knight, what is your name?”

“Holy Monk of Copmanhurst”, said the knight, “men call me in these parts the Black Knight, – many, sir, add to it the word ‘Lazy’, but I do not insist on that at all.”

The hermit smiled.

“I see,” said he, “Sir Lazy Knight, that you are a clever man – and a man accustomed to the rich food that people eat in the cities. I think that I have some food for my guests that I completely forgot about.”

“I was convinced that there was better food in your house, Holy Monk, since the moment you threw away your hood,” – said the knight.

The hermit hesitated for a second and then went to the further side of the hut, where he opened a small door which was concealed with great care. Out of a dark closet he brought a large pie. He placed this dish before his guest, and the knight cut it with his knife and started eating.

The hermit looked miserable, he had to watch his guest eat his pie and had no pretext to join him.