" "You're tired of Bly?" "Oh, no, I like Bly. It was in short a magnificent chance. It was too late to go upstairs to the French class. His mind, in the vesture of a doubting monk, stood often in shadow under the windows of that age, to hear the grave and mocking music of the lutenists or the frank laughter of waist-coateers until a laugh too low, a phrase, tarnished by time, of chambering and false honour stung his monkish pride and drove him on from his lurking-place.