VII
A few days later he was arrested for having violated and robbed the tombs in the burial-grounds of St. Fulvo. The pickaxe and the spade had been found with his name burned on the wood of them; he was sentenced to three years at the galleys for sacrilege and theft.
When the three years were ended he was an old, gray, bowed man, though only twenty-nine years of age; he returned to his cabin, and the dog, who had been cared for by the charcoal-burners, knew him from afar off, and flew down the hill-path to meet him.
'The wench who ruined you,' said the charcoal-burners around their fire that night, 'they do say she is a fine singer and a rich madam somewhere in foreign parts. She sold the Gesu—ay, she sold the Gesu to a silversmith down in the town. That gave her the money to start with, and the rest her face and her voice have done for her.'
'Who has the Gesu?' asked Caris, hiding his eyes on the head of the dog.
'Oh, the Gesu, they say, was put in the smelting-pot,' said the charcoal-burner.
Caris felt for the knife which was inside his belt. It had been given back to him with his clothes when he had been set free at the end of his sentence.
'One could find her,' he thought, with a thrill of savage longing. Then he looked down at the dog and across at the green aisles of the pines and chestnuts.
'Let the jade be,' said the forest-man to him. 'You are home again, and 'twas not you who bartered the Christ.'
Caris fondled the haft of the great knife under his waistband.
'She stole the Gesu and sold Him,' he said, in a hushed voice. 'One day I will find her, and I will strike her: once for myself and twice for Him.'