dden and
passionate on this wise: "Beltane, I tell thee the beauty of women is
an evil thing, a lure to wreck the souls of men. By woman came sin
into the world, by her beauty she blinds the eyes of men to truth and
honour, leading them into all manner of wantonness whereby their very
manhood is destroyed. This Helen of Troy, of whom ye speak, was nought
but a vile adulteress, with a heart false and foul, by whose sin many
died and Troy town was utterly destroyed."

"Alas!" sighed Beltane, "that one so fair should be a thing so evil!"

Thereafter he went his way, very sad and thoughtful, and that night,
lying upon his bed, he heard the voices of the trees sighing and
murmuring one to another like souls that sorrowed for sin's sake, and
broken dreams and ideals.

"Alas! that one so fair should be a thing so evil!" But, above the
whispers of the trees, loud and insistent rose the merry chatter of the
brook speaking to him of many things; of life, and the lust of life;
the pomp and stir of cities; the sound of song and laughter; of women
and the beauty of women, and of the sweet, mad wonder of love. Of all
these things the brook sang in the darkness, and Beltane sighed, and
sighing, fell asleep.

Thus lived my Beltane in the woodland, ranging the forest with eye
quick to see the beauty of earth and sky, and ear open to the thousand
voices around him; or, busied at his anvil, hearkening to the wondrous
tales of travel and strange adventure told by wandering knight and
man-at-arms the while, with skilful hand, he mended broken mail or dented
casque; and thereafter, upon the mossy sward, would make trial of their
strength and valour, whereby he both took and gave right lusty knocks;
or again, when work failed, he would lie upon the grass, chin on fist,
poring over some ancient legend, or sit with brush and colours,
illuminating on vellum, wherein right cunning was he. Now it chanced
that as he sat thus, brush in hand, upon a certain fair afternoon, he
suddenly espied one who stood watching him from the shade of a tree,
near by. A very tall man he was, long and lean and grim of aspect, with
a mouth wry-twisted by reason of an ancient sword-cut, and yet, withal,
he had a jovial eye. But now, seeing himself observed, he shook his
grizzled head and sighed. Whereat said Beltane, busied with his brush
again:

"Good sir, pray what's amiss?"

"The world, youth, the world--'tis all amiss. Yet mark me! here sit you
a-dabbing co