ed and seen much and should be wise--"

"Forsooth, messire, I have been so accounted ere now," nodded the
Pardoner.

"Dost hear, Giles? Thus, from his wisdom I may perchance grow wiser
than I am. So get thee back to thy duty, Giles. Begone--thy presence
doth distract us."

"Aye, base archer, begone!" nodded the Pardoner, seating himself upon
the sward. "Thy visage dour accordeth not with deep-seated thought--
take it hence!"

"There spake wisdom, Giles, and he is a fool that disobeys. So, Giles
--begone!"

Hereupon Giles frowned upon the Pardoner, who lolling at his ease,
snapped his fingers at Giles, whereat Giles scowled amain and scowling,
strode away.

"Now, messire," quoth the Pardoner, opening his wallet, "now in the
matter of sinning, messire, an thou hast some pet and peculiar vice--
some little, pretty vanity, some secret, sweet transgression--"

"Nay, first," quoth Beltane, "'tis sure thou hast a tongue--"

"O infallibly, messire; a sweet tongue--a tongue attuned to cunning
phrases. God gave to women beauty, to flowers perfume, and to me--a
tongue!"

"Good Pardoner, a lonely wight am I, ignorant of the world and of its
ways and doings. So for thy tongue will I barter base coin--what can'st
tell me for this fair gold piece?"

"That fain would I have the spending on't, noble, generous sir."

"What more?"

"Anything ye will, messire: for since I am the want universal and gold
the universal need, needs must want need! And here is a rare-turned
phrase, methinks?"

"So thus do I wed need with want," nodded Beltane, tossing him the
coin. "Come now, discourse to me of worldly things--how men do trim
their beards these days, what sins be most i' the fashion, if Duke Ivo
sleepeth a-nights, whether Pentavalon city standeth yet?"

"Aha!" cried the Pardoner (coin safely pouched), "I can tell ye tales
a-plenty: sly, merry tales of lovely ladies fair and gay. I can paint
ye a tongue picture of one beyond all fair ladies fair--her soft,
white body panting-warm for kisses, the lure of her mouth, the
languorous passion of her eyes, the glorious mantle of her flame-like
hair. I'll tell of how she, full of witching, wanton wiles,
love-alluring, furtive fled fleet-footed from the day and--there amid
the soft and slumberous silence of the tender trees did yield her love
to one beyond all beings blest. Thus, sighing and a-swoon, did Helen
fair, a Duchess proud--"

"Ah!" cried Beltane, clenching sudden fist, "wha