I drew it drop by drop as these friars are doing. By my
hilt! our young one here is as white as a Picardy cheese. What is amiss
then, mon cher?"

"It is nothing," Alleyne answered. "My life has been too quiet, I am not
used to such sights."

"Ma foi!" the other cried, "I have never yet seen a man who was so stout
of speech and yet so weak of heart."

"Not so, friend," quoth big John; "it is not weakness of heart for I
know the lad well. His heart is as good as thine or mine but he hath
more in his pate than ever you will carry under that tin pot of thine,
and as a consequence he can see farther into things, so that they weigh
upon him more."

"Surely to any man it is a sad sight," said Alleyne, "to see these
holy men, who have done no sin themselves, suffering so for the sins of
others. Saints are they, if in this age any may merit so high a name."

"I count them not a fly," cried Hordle John; "for who is the better for
all their whipping and yowling? They are like other friars, I trow, when
all is done. Let them leave their backs alone, and beat the pride out of
their hearts."

"By the three kings! there is sooth in what you say," remarked the
archer. "Besides, methinks if I were le bon Dieu, it would bring me
little joy to see a poor devil cutting the flesh off his bones; and I
should think that he had but a small opinion of me, that he should hope
to please me by such provost-marshal work. No, by my hilt! I should look
with a more loving eye upon a jolly archer who never harmed a fallen foe
and never feared a hale one."

"Doubtless you mean no sin," said Alleyne. "If your words are wild, it
is not for me to judge them. Can you not see that there are other foes
in this world besides Frenchmen, and as much glory to be gained in
conquering them? Would it not be a proud day for knight or squire if he
could overthrow seven adversaries in the lists? Yet here are we in the
lists of life, and there come the seven black champions against us Sir
Pride, Sir Covetousness, Sir Lust, Sir Anger, Sir Gluttony, Sir Envy,
and Sir Sloth. Let a man lay those seven low, and he shall have the
prize of the day, from the hands of the fairest queen of beauty, even
from the Virgin-Mother herself. It is for this that these men mortify
their flesh, and to set us an example, who would pamper ourselves
overmuch. I say again that they are God's own saints, and I bow my head
to them."

"And so you shall, mon petit," replied the archer. "