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Rough was Sir, and hasty in his mood, And, soldier-like, then answer'd he, in angry speech and rude: "I would not back although my path were lined with hostile swords, And deem'st thou I will turn aside for only woman's words?"

She raised her voice, the curse was pass'd; and to their dying day The sound, like thunder in their ears, will never pass away; Still haunted them those flashing eyes, that brow of funeral stone. When the words were said, she veil'd her face—the prioress was gone.