“Not so,” answered Beltane, “I had rather he, of a surety, attain a full belly, Sir Friar.”  Then, turning his back upon the friar, Beltane questioned the blind man again, as thus: 

“Tell me, an ye will, how ye came to shed blood?” and the outlaw, kneeling at Beltane’s feet answered with bowed head: 

“Noble sir, I had a daughter and she was young and fair, therefore came my lord Pertolepe’s chief verderer to bear her to my lord.  But she cried to me and I, forgetting my duty to my lord, took my quarter-staff and, serf though I was, smote the chief verderer that he died thereafter, but, ere he died, he named my daughter witch.  And, when they had burned her, they put out mine eyes, and cut off my hand, and made of me an outlaw.  So is my sin very heavy upon me.”

Now when the man had made an end, Beltane stood silent awhile, then, reaching down, he aided the blind man to his feet.

“Go you to Mortain,” said he, “seek out the hermit Ambrose that liveth in Holy Cross Thicket; with him shall you find refuge, and he, methinks, will surely win thy soul to heaven.”

So the blind man blessed my Beltane and turning, crept upon his solitary way.

“Youth,” said the friar, frowning up into Beltane’s gentle eyes, “thou hast this day put thy soul in jeopardy—­the Church doth frown upon this thy deed!”

“And yet, most reverend sir, God’s sun doth shine upon this my body!”

FRIAR.  “He who aideth an evil-doer is enemy to the good!”

BELTANE.  “Yet he who seeketh to do good to evil that good may follow, doeth no evil to good.”

FRIAR.  “Ha! thou art a menace to the state—­”

BELTANE.  “So shall I be, I pray God, the whiles this state continue!”

FRIAR.  “Thou art either rogue or fool!”

BELTANE.  “Well, thou hast thy choice.”

FRIAR.  “Alack! this sorry world is full of rogues and fools and—­”

BELTANE.  “And friars!”

FRIAR.  “Who seek the salvation of this wretched world.”

BELTANE.  “As how?”

FRIAR.  “Forsooth we meditate and pray—­”

BELTANE.  “And eat!”

FRIAR.  “Aye verily, we do a little in that way as the custom is, for your reverent eater begetteth a devout pray-er.  The which mindeth me I grow an hungered, yet will I forego appetite and yield thee this fair pasty for but two of thy gold pieces.  And, look ye, ’tis a noble pasty I had this day from my lord Pertolepe’s own table.”

BELTANE.  “That same lord that showed mercy on yonder poor maimed wretch?  Know you him?”

FRIAR.  “In very sooth, and ’tis a potent lord that holdeth me in some esteem, a most Christian knight—­”

BELTANE.  “That ravisheth the defenceless!  Whose hands be foul with the blood of innocence—­”

FRIAR.  “How—­how?  ’Tis a godly lord who giveth bounteously to Holy Church—­”

BELTANE.  “Who stealeth from the poor—­”