CHAPTER VII. HOW THE THREE COMRADES JOURNEYED THROUGH THE WOODLANDS.

ofspeechandyetsoweakofheart.” “Notso,friend,”quothbigJohn“itisnotweaknessofheartforIknowtheladwell.Hisheartisasgoodasthineorminebuthehathmoreinhispatethaneveryouwillcarryunderthattinpotofthine,andasaconsequencehecanseefartherintothings,sothattheyweighuponhimmore.” “Surelytoanymanitisasadsight,”saidAlleyne,“toseetheseholymen,whohavedonenosinthemselves,sufferingsoforthesinsofothers.Saintsarethey,ifinthisageanymaymeritsohighaname.” “Icountthemnotafly,”criedHordleJohn“forwhoisthebetterforalltheirwhippingandyowling?Theyarelikeotherfriars,Itrow,whenallisdone.Letthemleavetheirbacksalone,andbeattheprideoutoftheirhearts.” “Bythethreekings!thereissoothinwhatyousay,”remarkedthearcher.“Besides,methinksifIwerelebonDieu,itwouldbringmelittlejoytoseeapoordevilcuttingthefleshoffhisbonesandIshouldthinkthathehadbutasmallopinionofme,thatheshouldhopetopleasemebysuchprovost-marshalwork.No,bymyhilt!Ishouldlookwithamorelovingeyeuponajollyarcherwhoneverharmedafallenfoeandneverfearedahaleone.” “Doubtlessyoumeannosin,”saidAlleyne.“Ifyourwordsarewild,itisnotformetojudgethem.CanyounotseethatthereareotherfoesinthisworldbesidesFrenchmen,andasmuchglorytobegainedinconqueringthem?Woulditnotbeaprouddayforknightorsquireifhecouldoverthrowsevenadversariesinthelists?Yethereareweinthelistsoflife,andtherecomethesevenblackchampionsagainstusSirPride,SirCovetousness,SirLust,SirAnger,SirGluttony,SirEnvy,andSirSloth.Letamanlaythosesevenlow,andheshallhavetheprizeoftheday,fromthehandsofthefairestqueenofbeauty,evenfromtheVirgin-Motherherself.Itisforthisthatthesemenmortifytheirflesh,andtosetusanexample,whowouldpamperourselvesovermuch.IsayagainthattheyareGod'sownsaints,andIbowmyheadtothem.” “Andsoyoushall,monpetit,”repliedthearcher.“IhavenotheardamanspeakbettersinceoldDomBertranddied,whowasatonetimechaplaintotheWhiteCompany.Hewasaveryvaliantman,butatthebattleofBrignaishewasspittedthroughthebodybyaHainaultman-at-arms.Forthiswehadanexcommunicationreadagainsttheman,whennextwesawourholyfatheratAvignonbutaswehadnothisname,andknewnothingofhim,savethatherodeadapple-grayroussin,Ihavefearedsometimesthattheblightmayhavesettleduponthewrongman.” “YourCompanyhasbeen,then,tobowkneebeforeourholyfather,thePopeUrban,thepropandcentreofChristendom?”askedAlleyne,muchinterested.“Perchanceyouhaveyourselfseteyesuponhisaugustface?” “TwiceIsawhim,”saidthearcher.“Hewasaleanlittleratofaman,withascabonhischin.Thefirsttimewehadfivethousandcrownsoutofhim,thoughhemademuchadoaboutit.Thesecondtimeweaskedtenthousand,butitwasthreedaysbeforewecouldcometoterms,andIamofopinionmyselfthatwemighthavedonebetterbyplunderingthepalace.Hischamberlainandcardinalscameforth,asIremember,toaskwhetherwewouldtakeseventhousandcrownswithhisblessingandaplenaryabsolution,orthetenthousandwithhissolemnbanbybell,bookandcandle.WewereallofonemindthatitwasbesttohavethetenthousandwiththecursebutinsomewaytheyprevaileduponSirJohn,sothatwewereblestandshrivenagainstourwill.Perchanceitisaswell,fortheCompanywereinneedofitaboutthattime.” ThepiousAlleynewasdeeplyshockedbythisreminiscence.Involuntarilyheglancedupandaroundtoseeiftherewereanytraceofthoseopportunelevin-flashesandthunderboltswhich,inthe“ActaSanctorum,”werewontsooftentocutshorttheloosetalkofthescoffer.Theautumnsunstreameddownasbrightlyasever,andthepeacefulredpathstillwoundinfrontofthemthroughtherustling,yellow-tintedforest,Natureseemedtobetoobusywithherownconcernstoheedthedignityofanoutragedpontiff.Yethefeltasenseofweightandreproachwithinhisbreast,asthoughhehadsinnedhimselfingivingeartosuchwords.Theteachingsoftwentyyearscriedoutagainstsuchlicense.Itwasnotuntilhehadthrownhimselfdownbeforeoneofthemanywaysidecrosses,andhadprayedfromhisheartbothforthearcherandforhimself,thatthedarkcloudrolledbackagainfromhisspirit.