Let it be, for, after all, we have seen enough of fires to-night, and sit down to a cup of wine--nay, I forgot, you drink but water--well, then, to a bite of bread and meat." "I thank you, my Lord Abbot," answered Martin, "but I may not touch flesh; this is Friday." "Friday or no we have touched flesh--the flesh of men--up at the Towers yonder this night," answered the Abbot, with an uneasy laugh.

"Still, obey your conscience, Brother, and eat bread.

Soon it will be midnight, and the meat can follow." The lean monk bowed, and, taking a hunch of bread, began to bite at it, for he was almost starving.
"Have you come from watching by the body of that bloody and rebellious man who has worked us so much harm and loss ?" asked the Abbot presently.
The secretary nodded, then swallowing a crust, said-- "Aye, I have been praying over him and the others.

At least he was brave, and it must be hard to see one's new-wed wife burn like a witch.
Also, now that I come to study the matter, I know not what his sin was who did but fight bravely when he was attacked.

For without doubt the marriage is good, and whether he should have waited to ask your leave to make it is a point that might be debated through every court in Christendom." The Abbot frowned, not appreciating this open and judicial tone in matters that touched him so nearly.
"You have honoured me of late by choosing me as one of your confessors, though I think you do not tell me everything, my Lord Abbot; therefore I bare my mind to you," continued Brother Martin apologetically.
"Speak on then, man.