Читать книгу The Peacock Feather. A Romance онлайн

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Then his eye fell upon the book. He stooped down and gently picked it up. The book was open at the following lines:

“Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat,

I never thenk to ben in his prison lene;

Sin I am free, I counte him not a bene.

He may answere, and say this or that;

I do no fors, I speke right as I mene.

Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat,

I never thenk to ben in his prison lene.

“Love hath my name y-strike out of his sclat,

And he is strike out of my bokes clene

For ever-mo; ther is non other mene.

Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat,

I never thenk to ben in his prison lene;

Sin I am free, I counte him not a bene.”

Ten minutes later Peter stirred and yawned. He sat up and began to stretch himself. But in the very act thereof he stopped, and a gleam of humorous amazement shot into his blue eyes, for on the grass beside him a man was sitting, calmly reading from his own rather shabby book.

The man looked up.

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” said Peter, with a brilliant smile.

The man laughed. “I ought to apologize,” he said. “The fact is, when I first saw you lying there asleep I took you for a tramp. Then I [Pg 12]came nearer and saw my mistake. I also saw the book. The temptation to talk to a man who obviously loved the open air and read Chaucer was too much for me. I sat down to wait till you should awake.”