"Because there is some music in that even when it scolds," was the stout reply."And then to be always checked.If I do but put my finger in the salt-cellar, straightway I hear, 'Have you no knife that you finger the salt?' 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 small of soul! these little peevish pedantries fall chill upon good fellowship like wee icicles a-melting down from strawen eaves.""I hold cleanliness no pedantry," said Gerard."Shouldst learn better manners once for all.""Nay; 'tis they who lack manners.They stop a fellow's mouth at every word.""At every other word, you mean; every obscene or blasphemous one.""Exaggerator, go to! Why, at the very last of these dungeons Ifound the poor travellers sitting all chilled and mute round one shaveling, like rogues awaiting their turn to be hanged; so to cheer them up, I did but 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, turning all 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 a fault.""Well, all the world ought to speak French.What avail so many jargons except 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 to you.""Well, then, he said, 'Such as begin by making free with the devil's name, aye end by doing it with all the names in heaven.'
'Father,' said I, '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, and thinking to clear myself, said, 'Ay, it was.' 'Then that is ten times worse,' said he.''Twill bring him about your ears one of these days.He still comes where he hears his name often called.' Observe! no gratitude for the tidings which neither his missals nor his breviary had ever let him know.
Then he was so good as to tell me, soldiers do commonly the crimes 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 so says this courteous host of mine, 'Being the foes of mankind, why make enemies of good spirits into the bargain, by still shouting the names of evil ones?' and a lot more stuff.""Well, but, Denys, whether you hearken his rede, or slight it, wherefore blame a man for raising his voice to save your soul?""How can his voice save my soul, when he keeps turning of his P's into B's"Gerard was staggered: ere he could recover at this thunderbolt of Gallicism, Denys went triumphant off at a tangent, and stigmatized all monks as hypocrites."Do but look at them, how they creep about and cannot eye you like honest men.""Nay," said Gerard eagerly, "that modest downcast gaze is part of their discipline, 'tis 'custodia oculorum'.""Cussed toads eating hoc hac horum? No such thing; just so looks a cut-purse.Can't meet a true man's eye.Doff cowl, monk; and behold, a thief; don cowl thief, and lo, a monk.Tell me not they will ever be able to look God Almighty in the face, when they can't even look a true man in the face down here.Ah, here it is, black as ink! into the well we go, comrade.Misericorde, there goes the tinkle already.'Tis the best of tinkles though; 'tis for dinner: stay, listen! I thought so: the wolf in my stomach cried 'Amen!'" This last statement he confirmed with two oaths, and marched like a victorious gamecock into the convent, thinking by Gerard's silence he had convinced him, and not dreaming how profoundly he had disgusted him.
