And as to what I can do, I profess that I can sing,
having been well taught by a master, the best in my country. I can
play upon the viol and eke upon the organ. I am fairly good at fence,
and excellent as any at singlestick. I can faithfully carry a message
and loyally serve those who trust me. I would have some money to
spend, which I have never had. I wish to live a life worth living,
wherein is pleasure and pain, the lack of sameness, and the joy of
things new. And if that may not be--why, I am ready to die, that I may
make proof whether there be anything better beyond."
"A most philosophic creed," cried the marshal. "Well, there is one
thing in which I can prove, if indeed you lie not. Sing!"
Then Laurence stood up and sang, even as the choir had done, the
lamentation of Rachel according to the setting of the Roman precentor.
"_A voice was heard in Ramah!_"
And as he sang, the Lord of Retz took up the strain, and, with true
accord and feeling, accompanied him to the end.
[Illustration: THE PRISONERS OF THE WHITE TOWER.
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