'If he were a soldier he might be brought to it.

But he is a priest, my friend, and does not fight.' 'Fight?
Who wants him to fight ?' the lad answered, his face dark, his hands moving restlessly.

'It is the easier done.

A blow in the back, and he will trouble us no more.' 'Who is to strike it ?' I asked drily.
Simon trembled and hesitated; but presently, heaving a deep sigh, he said, 'I will.' 'It might not be difficult,' I muttered, thinking it over.
'It would be easy,' he answered under his breath.

His eyes shone, his lips were white, and his long dark hair hung wet over his forehead.
I reflected, and the longer I did so the more feasible seemed the suggestion.