“Sure, she hath already the certain promise of Paradise, and even in this world her life is with the Saints. And if men slay her body, we need her prayers more than she needs ours.”
But Elliot said no word, being very wilful.
“Consider what manner of friend the Maid is,” I said, “who desires nothing but joy and happy life to all whom she loves, as she loves you. Verily, I am right well assured that, could she see us in this hour, she would bid you be happy with me, and not choose penance for love of her.”
“If she herself bids me do as you desire,” said Elliot at last, “then I would not be disobedient to that Daughter of God.”
Here I took some comfort, for now a thought came into my mind.
“But,” said Elliot, “as we read of the rich man and Lazarus, between her and us is a great gulf fixed, and none may come from her to us, or from us to her.”
“Elliot!” I said, “if either the Maid be delivered, or if she sends you sure and certain tidings under her own hand that she wills you to put off this humour, will you then be persuaded, and make no more delay!”
“Indeed, if either of these miracles befall, or both, right gladly will I obey both you and her. But now her Saints, methinks, have left her, wearied by the wickedness of France.”
“I ask no more,” I answered, “for, Elliot, either the Maid shall be free, or she shall send you this command, or you shall see my face no more.”
My purpose was now clear before me, even as I executed it, as shall be seen.