Ralph woke about sunrise, and looking up saw a man standing over him, and deemed at first that it would be Richard or the Sage; but as his vision cleared, he saw that it was neither of them, but a new comer; a stout carle clad in russet, with a great staff in his hand and a short-sword girt to his side.  Ralph sprang up, still not utterly awake, and cried out, “Who art thou, carle?” The man laughed, and said:  “Yea, thou art still the same brisk lad, only filled out to something more warrior-like than of old.  But it is unmeet to forget old friends.  Why dost thou not hail me?”

“Because I know thee not, good fellow,” said Ralph.  But even as he spoke, he looked into the man’s face again, and cried out:  “By St. Nicholas! but it is Roger of the Ropewalk.  But look you, fellow, if I have somewhat filled out, thou, who wast always black-muzzled, art now become as hairy as a wodehouse.  What dost thou in the wilds?” Said Roger:  “Did they not tell thee of a hermit new come to these shaws?” “Yea,” said Ralph.  “I am that holy man,” quoth Roger, grinning; “not that I am so much of that, either.  I have not come hither to pray or fast overmuch, but to rest my soul and be out of the way of men.  For all things have changed since my Lady passed away.”

He looked about, and saw Ursula just rising up from the ground and the Sage stirring, while Richard yet hugged his bracken bed, snoring.  So he said:  “And who be these, and why hast thou taken to the wildwood?  Yea lad, I see of thee, that thou hast gotten another Lady; and if mine eyes do not fail me she is fair enough.  But there be others as fair; while the like to our Lady that was, there is none such.”

He fell silent a while, and Ralph turned about to the others, for by this time Richard also was awake, and said:  “This man is the hermit of whom we were told.”

Roger said:  “Yea, I am the hermit and the holy man; and withal I have a thing to hear and a thing to tell.  Ye were best to come with me, all of you, to my house in the woods; a poor one, forsooth, but there is somewhat of victual here, and we can tell and hearken therein well sheltered and at peace.  So to horse, fair folk.”

They would not be bidden twice, but mounted and went along with him, who led them by a thicket path about a mile, till they came to a lawn where-through ran a stream; and there was a little house in it, simple enough, of one hall, built with rough tree-limbs and reed thatch.  He brought them in, and bade them sit on such stools or bundles of stuff as were there.  But withal he brought out victual nowise ill, though it were but simple also, of venison of the wildwood, with some little deal of cakes baked on the hearth, and he poured for them also both milk and wine.

They were well content with the banquet, and when they were full, Roger said:  “Now, my Lord, like as oft befalleth minstrels, ye have had your wages before your work.  Fall to, then, and pay me the scot by telling me all that hath befallen you since (woe worth the while!) my Lady died,—­I must needs say, for thy sake.”