"Nay," said the second youth; "I would request nothing save a purse of gold that never would grow empty, and were I ugly as sin, and wicked as its originator, I could buy the heart of any damsel I longed for."
"And you," said the first speaker, turning to the silent, grey man, "are you too old to remember women’s hearts are worth the winning?"
"Old?" said the grey man; "how many years would you say that I carry?"
"You look old for your days if you be under sixty?"
"Nay, then," said the man, "I am forty-five at cockcrow to-morrow."
"Good heavens!" said the youth; "what has aged you so?"
"If I," said the grey man, passing the question, "had the goodwill of the fairies, I would claim the old gift women have always loved—more than beauty, wealth, gentleness, or aught else."
"And that?" said the first youth eagerly.
"Courage," said the man—"plain animal courage."
"I don’t agree," said the other. "Where
