‘Was it not thy voice that hurt my ears as I stood upon the hill?’ quoth the Black Earl, his tongue silken in his rage.
‘Nay,’ said the ancient crone; ‘I heard but the linnet's song upon the tree, and the sound of running water that is murmuring in the grove. Listen, and thou, too, shalt hear.’
‘Nay,’ quoth she again, for the Black Earl scowled so at her that she feared to be silent. ‘If I said this thing, why should it vex the ear of so proud a knight? Yonder black rook did look into my face with an inquisitive eye as I plucked my herbs and harmed no man, so I, angry at the wicked one, cursed him begone. As he flew affrighted at my hand, I turned my eyes into my own heart. The birds and I, do we not both root in the cold earth, seeking to draw from it our desires? Black and ill-looking, we dig all day. “Who art thou,” quoth I to myself, “that evil should fly before thee?” Wicked that I am,’ cried the witch, ‘and sorrow upon me that my words have vexed thine ears!’
Now the Black Earl did look upon her in
