CHAPTER XXXI
GERALD was almost as eager for this promised land as Denys; for thelatter constantly chanted its praises, and at every little annoyanceshowed him "they did things better in Burgundy"; and above all played onhis foible by guaranteeing clean bed-clothes at the inns of thatpolished nation. "I ask no more," the Hollander would say; "to thinkthat I have not lain once in a naked bed since I left home! When I lookat their linen, instead of doffing habit and hose, it is mine eyes andnose I would fain be shut of."
Denys carried his love of country so far as to walk twenty leagues inshoes that had exploded, rather than buy of a German churl, who wouldthrow all manner of obstacles in a customer's way, his incivility, hisdinner, his body.
Towards sunset they found themselves at equal distances from a littletown and a monastery: only the latter was off the road. Denys was forthe inn, Gerard for the convent. Denys gave way, but on condition that,once in Burgundy, they should always stop at an inn. Gerard consented tothis the more readily that his chart with its list of convents endedhere. So they turned off the road. And now Gerard asked with surprisehence this sudden aversion to places, that had fed and lodged themgratis so often. The soldier hemm'd and hawed at first; but at last hiswrongs burst forth. It came out that this was no sudden aversion, but anancient and abiding horror, which he had suppressed till now, but withinfinite difficulty, and out of politeness: "I saw they had put powderin your drink," said he. "So I forbore them. However, being the last,why not ease my mind? Know then I have been like a fish out of water inall those great dungeons. You straightway levant with some oldshaveling: so you see not my purgatory."
"Forgive me! I have been selfish."
"Ay, ay, I forgive thee, little one: 'tis not thy fault: art not thefirst fool that has been priest-rid, and monk-bit. But I'll not forgive_them_ my misery." Then, about a century before Henry VIII.'scommissioners, he delivered his indictment. These gloomy piles were allbuilt alike. Inns differed, but here all was monotony. Great gate,little gate, so many steps and then a gloomy cloister. Here the dortour,there the great cold refectory, where you must sit mumchance, or atleast inaudible, he who liked to speak his mind out: "and then," saidhe, "nobody is a man here, but all are slaves, and of what? of apeevish, tinkling bell, that never sleeps. An 'twere a trumpet now, ayesounding alarums, 'twouldn't freeze a man's heart so. Tinkle, tinkle,tinkle, and you must sit to meat with maybe no stomach for food. Ereyour meat settles in your stomach, tinkle, tinkle, and ye must to churchwith maybe no stomach for devotion: I am not a hog at prayers, for one.Tinkle, tinkle! and now you must to bed with your eyes open. Well, bythen you have contrived to shut them, some uneasy imp of darkness hasgot to the bell-rope, and tinkle, tinkle, it behoves you to say a prayerin the dark, whether you know one or not. If they heard the sort ofprayers I mutter when they break my rest with their tinkle! Well, youdrop off again and get about an eyeful of sleep; lo, it is tinkle,tinkle, for matins."
"And the only clapper you love is a woman's," put in Gerard halfcontemptuously.
"Because there is some music in that even when it scolds," was the stoutreply. "And then to be always checked. If I do but put my finger in thesalt-cellar, straightway I hear, 'Have you no knife that you finger thesalt?' And if I but wipe my knife on the cloth to save time, then 'tis,'Wipe thy knife dirty on the bread, and clean upon the cloth!' Oh smallof soul! these little peevish pedantries fall chill upon good fellowshiplike wee icicles a-melting down from strawen eaves."
"I hold cleanliness no pedantry," said Gerard. "Shouldst learn bettermanners once for all."
"Nay. 'Tis they who lack manners. They stop a fellow's mouth at everyword."
"At every other word you mean; every obscene or blasphemous one."
"Exaggerator, go to! Why, at the very last of these dungeons, I foundthe poor travellers sitting all chilled and mute round one shaveling,like rogues awaiting their turn to be hanged: so to cheer them up, I didbut cry out, 'Courage, tout le monde, le dia--'"
"Connu! what befell?"
"Marry, this. 'Blaspheme not!' quo' the bourreau. 'Plait-il,' say I.Doesn't he wheel and wyte on me in a sort of Alsatian French, turningall the 'P's' into 'B's.' I had much ado not to laugh in his face."
"Being thyself unable to speak ten words of _his_ language without afault."
"Well, all the world ought to speak French. What avail so many jargonsexcept to put a frontier atwixt men's hearts?"
"But what said he."
"What signifies it what a fool says?"
"Oh, not all the words of a fool are folly: or I should not listen toyou."
"Well, then, he said, 'such as begin by making free with the devil'sname, aye end by doing it with all the names in heaven.' 'Father,' saidI, 'I am a soldier, and this is but my "consigne" or watchword.' 'Oh,then, it is just a custom?' said he. I not divining the old fox, andthinking to clear myself, said, 'Ay, it was.' 'Then that is ten timesworse,' said he. ''Twill bring him about your ears one of these days. Hestill comes where he hears his name often called.' Observe! no gratitudefor the tidings which neither his missals nor his breviary had ever lethim know. Then he was so good as to tell me, soldiers do commonly thecrimes for which all other men are broke on the wheel; 'a savoir'murder, rape, and pillage."
"And is't not true?"
"True or not, it was ill manners," replied Denys, guardedly. "And sosays this courteous host of mine, 'being the foes of mankind, why makeenemies of good spirits into the bargain, by still shouting the names ofevil ones?' and a lot more stuff."
"Well, but Denys, whether you hearken his rede, or slight it, whereforeblame a man for raising his voice to save your soul?"
"How can his voice save my soul, when a keeps turning of his 'P's' into'B's'?"
Gerard was staggered: ere he could recover at this thunderbolt ofGallicism, Denys went triumphant off at a tangent, and stigmatized allmonks as hypocrites. "Do but look at them, how they creep about andcannot eye you like honest men."
"Nay," said Gerard, eagerly, "that modest downcast gaze is part of theirdiscipline, 'tis 'custodia oculorum.'"
"Cussed toads eating hoc hac horum? No such thing; just so looks acut-purse. Can't meet a true man's eye. Doff cowl, monk; and behold, athief: don cowl thief, and lo, a monk. Tell me not they will ever beable to look God Almighty in the face, when they can't even look a trueman in the face down here. Ah, here it is, black as ink! into the wellwe go, comrade. Misericorde, there goes the tinkle already. 'Tis thebest of tinkles though; 'tis for dinner: stay, listen! I thought so; thewolf in my stomach cried 'Amen!'" This last statement he confirmed withtwo oaths, and marched like a victorious gamecock into the convent,thinking by Gerard's silence he had convinced him, and not dreaming howprofoundly he had disgusted him.
The Cloister and the Hearth: A Tale of the Middle Ages Page 32
