“Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it:  if a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned.”

Trying desperately to cling to such rags and tatters of common sense as I could lay hold upon: 

“There is your duty to yourself,” I managed to say.  “Yes, yes, one owes a great duty to oneself and one’s work, John.  You are risking too much—­name, friends, honor, work, freedom.  For God’s sake, John, do not underestimate the danger.  You have not had time to consider it.”

“Ho!  Listen to the parson preaching self-interest!” he mocked.  “He’s a fine one to do that—­at this hour of his life!”

“I tell you you endanger everything,” I insisted.  I might bring that package, but at least he shouldn’t rush upon the knife unwarned.

“I know that—­I’m no fool.  And I tell you it’s worth while.  To-night makes me and my whole life worth while, the good and the bad of it together.  Risks?  I’ll take all that’s coming.  You stay here and say some prayers for me, parson, if it makes you feel any better.  As for me, I’m off.”

At that I lost my every last shred of commonplace everyday sanity, and let myself swing without further reserve into the wild current of the night.

“Oh, very well!” said I shrilly.  “You will take chances, you will run risks, hein? My friend, you do not stir out of this house this night without me!” He stared, as well he might, but I folded my arms and stared back.  Let him leave me, bent on such an errand?  I to sit at home idly, awaiting the issue, whatever it might be?

“I mean it, John Flint.  I am going with you.  Was it not I, then, who saved those tools and had them ready to your hand?  Whatever happens to you now happens to me as well.  It is quite useless for you to argue, to scowl, to grind the teeth, to swear like that.  And it will be dangerous to try to trick me:  I am going!”

For he was protesting, violently and profanely.  His profanity was so sincere, so earnest, so heartfelt, that it mounted into heights of real eloquence.  Also, he did everything but knock me down and lock me indoors.

“Whatever happens to you happens to me,” I repeated doggedly, and I was not to be moved.  I had a hazy notion that somehow my being with him might protect him in case of any untoward happening, and minimize his risks.

I ran into his bedroom and clapped his best hat on my head, leaving my biretta on his bed; and I put on his new dark overcoat over my cassock.  Both the borrowed garments were too big for me, the hat coming down over my ears, the coat-sleeves over my hands.  I being as thin as a peeled willow-wand, and the clothes hanging upon me as on a clothes-rack, I dare say I cut a sad and ludicrous figure enough.  Flint, standing watching me with his burglarious bundle under his arm, gave an irrepressible chuckle and his eyes crinkled.