“Because,” replied the Bishop, “soon after I had bought him he trampled to ruin, in a fit of misplaced merriment, some flower beds on which I had spent much precious time and care, and of which I was inordinately fond.”

“Brute,” said the Knight, puzzled, but unwilling to admit it.  “Methinks I should have named him ‘Devil,’ for the doing of such diabolic mischief.”

“Nay,” said the Bishop, gently.  “The Devil would have spared my flower beds.  They were a snare unto me.”

“And wherefore ’Sheba’?” queried the Knight.

“I named her so, when I gave her to the Prioress,” said the Bishop, “in reply to a question put to me by the Reverend Mother.  The ass was elderly and mild, even then, but a handsome creature, of good breed.  The Prioress asked me whether she still had too much spirit to be easily managed by the lay-sisters.  I answered that her name was ‘Sheba.’”

The Bishop paused and rubbed his hands softly over each other, in gleeful enjoyment of the recollection.

But the Knight again looked blank.

“Did that content the Prioress?” he asked; but chiefly for love of mentioning her name.

“Perfectly,” replied the Bishop.  “She smiled and said:  ‘That is well.’  And the name stuck to the ass, though the Reverend Mother and I alone understood its meaning.”

“About the Play Day?” suggested the Knight, growing restive.

“Ah, yes!  About the Play Day.  The time chosen was after noon on this day, in order that the Prioress might first accomplish her talk with Seraphine, thus clearing the way for our experiment.  Although written last evening, I had not received the Reverend Mother’s decisive letter, when Iconoklastes set forth; and, I confess, I looked forward with keen interest, to questioning the lay-brother on his return.  As I have told you, I had doubts concerning Seraphine; but I knew the Prioress would see to it that my meaning and intention reached the member of the Community actually concerned, were she Seraphine or another; and I should have light, both on the identity of the lady and on her probable course of action, when report reached me as to which of the nuns had taken the riding seriously.  Therefore, with no little interest, I awaited the return of Iconoklastes, in charge of Brother Philip.”

The Bishop lifted the faggot-fork and, bending over the hearth, began to build the logs, quickening the dying flame.

“Well?” cried the Knight, chafing like a charger on the curb.  “Well, my lord?  And then?”

The Bishop stood the faggot-fork in its corner.

“I paused, my son, that you might say:  ‘Wherefore “Philip"?’”

“The names of men interest me not,” said the Knight, with impatience.  “I care but to know the reason for the names of beasts.”

“Quite right,” said the Bishop.  “Adam named the beasts; Eve named the men.  Yet, I would like you to ask ‘Wherefore “Philip,"’ because the Prioress at once put that question, when she heard me call Brother Mark by his new name.”