CHAPTER XX: THE BILLET.
Go to--thou art made, if thou desirest to be so .-- If not, let me see thee still the fellow of servants, and not fit to touch Fortune's fingers .-- TWELFTH NIGHT When the tables were drawn, the Chaplain, who seemed to have taken a sort of attachment to Quentin Durward's society, or who perhaps desired to extract from him farther information concerning the meeting of the morning, led him into a withdrawing apartment, the windows of which, on one side, projected into the garden, and as he saw his companion's eye gaze rather eagerly upon the spot, he proposed to Quentin to go down and take a view of the curious foreign shrubs with which the Bishop had enriched its parterres.
Quentin excused himself as unwilling to intrude, and therewithal communicated the check which he had received in the morning.

The Chaplain smiled, and said that there was indeed some ancient prohibition respecting the Bishop's private garden.
"But this," he added, with a smile, "was when our reverend father was a princely young prelate of not more than thirty years of age, and when many fair ladies frequented the Castle for ghostly consolation.

Need there was," he said with a downcast look, and a smile, half simple and half intelligent, "that these ladies, pained in conscience, who were ever lodged in the apartments now occupied by the noble Canoness, should have some space for taking the air, secure from the intrusion of the profane.

But of late years," he added, "this prohibition, although not formally removed, has fallen entirely out of observance, and remains but as the superstition which lingers in the brain of a superannuated gentleman usher.

If you please," he added, "we will presently descend, and try whether the place be haunted or no." Nothing could have been more agreeable to Quentin than the prospect of a free entrance into the garden, through means of which, according to a chance which had hitherto attended his passion, he hoped to communicate with, or at least obtain sight of, the object of his affections, from some such turret or balcony window, or similar "coign of vantage," as at the hostelry of the Fleur de Lys, near Plessis, or the Dauphin's Tower, within that Castle itself.