Summary

Portrait of John Buchan John Buchan Sir Quixote of the Moors

I would be breaking my oath, 'twas true, in leaving the maid, but keeping it in the better way. The thought of the dangers to which she would be exposed stabbed me like a dart. It had almost overcome me. "But honor is more than life or love," I said, as I set my teeth with stern purpose.
Yet, though all my soul was steeled into resolution, there was no ray of hope in my heart—nothing but a dead, bleak outlook, a land of moors and rain, an empty purse and an aimless journey.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of John Buchan John Buchan Sir Quixote of the Moors

I could take shame to myself every time I eat good food or sleep in a decent bed, to think of better men creeping aneath the lang heather like etherts, or shivering on the cauld hill-side. There'll be no such doings in your land, M. de Rohaine? I've heard tell of folk there like us, dwelling in the hills to escape the abominations of Rome. But perhaps," and he hesitated, "you are not of them?"
"No," said I, "I am of your enemies by upbringing; but I dearly love a brave man, where-ever I meet him. 'Tis poor religion, say I, which would lead one to see no virtue in those of another belief.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of John Buchan John Buchan Sir Quixote of the Moors

If I left the place at once and forever, then indeed my honor would be kept, but yet not all; for my plighted word—where would it be? I had sworn that come what may I should stand by the maid and protect her against what evil might come to the house. Now I was thinking of fleeing from my post like a coward, and all because the girl's eyes were too bright for my weak resolution. When her lover returned, if he ever came, what story would she have to tell? This, without a doubt: "The man whom you left has gone, fled like a thief in the night, for what reason I know not."
Source: Gutenberg

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