"Ancient hauberk, date of the sixth century, time of King Arthur and the Round Table; said to have belonged to the knight Sir Sagramor le Desirous; observe the round hole through the chain-mail in the left breast; can't be accounted for; supposed to have been done with a bullet since invention of firearms -- perhaps maliciously by Cromwell's soldiers."
My acquaintance smiled -- not a modern smile, but one that must have gone out of general use many, many centuries ago -- and muttered apparently to himself with her, he would sanction
everything at oncehe answered.:
"Wit ye well, I SAW IT DONE." Then, after a pause, added: "I did it myself."
By the time I had recovered from , he was gone.
All that evening I sat by my fire at the Warwick Arms, steeped in a dream of the olden time, while the rain beat upon the windows, and the wind roared about the eaves and corners. From time to time I dipped into old Sir Thomas Malory's enchanting book, and fed at its rich feast of prodigies and adventures, breathed in the fragrance of its obsolete names, and dreamed again. Midnight being come at length, I read another tale, for a nightcap -- this which here follows, to wit:
Chapter 1 Camelot
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