“I have no money,” he said. “You must manage with your share of these or nothing. If you look for better, it must be out of my company.”
“What does for you, will do for me, Father,” I said meekly; but nothing would disarm his churlishness.
“That’s a matter of opinion,” said he. “I could do very well without you, to begin with.”
I dropped my eyes.
“Now, then, bestir yourself,” he bullied. “If you’re to come at all, come before the world’s awake.”
He strode off, and I followed, through shuttered glooms, and along silent corridors to a distant part of the building, emerging from a door in which we found ourselves in a close shrubbery-walk going up towards woods. Very soon the comforting screen of trees was about us, and the peril of watchful enemies surpassed. We pushed on without rest or pause. My spirit and my feet danced together. It was all so free and fragrant, and the rapture of my new emancipation was like a second sight. Fays and sweet things seemed to melt before me round green corners, or overhead among the branches, leaving a scent of the unknown world in their footsteps. I sang low, I laughed to the birds, I seemed incapable of weariness. And, indeed, my late training served me in good stead, for this clerical Caliban had no mercy on my tender limbs. He desired only the least excuse to shake me off, and I would not gratify him with one.
All day he led me south by wood and common, avoiding the living places where men were like to be alert on the new Crusade. We hardly exchanged a word, as he swung on with the gait of a camel; but in the end it was he who succumbed first. The weight of his great folio crushed him—that is the truth. He called a halt in an unfrequented copse, and flung himself exhausted on the grass.
“Go, find yourself a lodging,” he said. “I will sleep here.”
I did not dare cross him. I crept away; but only so far as a low thorn tree, mounting into which I could easily hold him in view. But I need not have feared. The poor wretch was sunk in fatigue, and incapable of further effort. He had an odious night, I am sure, while I, from my late habits, slept as securely as in an arm-chair.
Early next morning we were afoot again. My companion, mouldy-cheeked and limping, greeted me with a scowl.