“Stay yet a moment!” said Ulrica; “leave me not now, son of my father’s friend, lest the demon who has governed my life should tempt me to avenge myself of thy hard-hearted scorn⁠—Thinkest thou, if Front-de-Boeuf found Cedric the Saxon in his castle, in such a disguise, that thy life would be a long one?⁠—Already his eye has been upon thee like a falcon on his prey.”

“And be it so,” said Cedric; “and let him tear me with beak and talons, ere my tongue say one word which my heart doth not warrant. I will die a Saxon⁠—true in word, open in deed⁠—I bid thee avaunt!⁠—touch me not, stay me not!⁠—The sight of Front-de-Boeuf himself is less odious to me than thou, degraded and degenerate as thou art.”