The captive Abbot's features and manners exhibited a whimsical mixture of offended pride, and deranged foppery and bodily terror.

"Why, how now, my masters?" said he, with a voice in which all three emotions were blended. "What order is this among ye? Be ye Turks or Christians, that handle a churchman?—Know ye what it is, manus imponere in servos Domini? Ye have plundered my mails—torn my cope of curious cut lace, which might have served a cardinal—Another in my place would have been at his excommunicabo vos; but I am placable, and if ye order forth my palfreys, release my brethren,