“Ye massacred them wholesale at Lyons, and that is on Burgundy's threshold. To you the gibbet proves the crime, because you read not story. Alas! had you stood on Calvary that bloody day we sigh for to this hour, I tremble to think you had perhaps shouted for joy at the gibbet builded there; for the cross was but the Roman gallows, Father Martin says.”
“The blaspheming old hound!”
“Oh, fie! fie! a holy and a book-learned man. Ay, Denys, y'had read them, that suffered there, by the bare light of the gibbet. 'Drive in the nails!' y'had cried: 'drive in the spear!' Here be three malefactors. Three 'roues.' Yet of those little three one was the first Christian saint, and another was the Saviour of the world which gibbeted him.”
Denys assured him on his honour they managed things better in Burgundy. He added, too, after profound reflection, that the horrors Gerard had alluded to had more than once made him curse and swear with rage when told by the good cure in his native village at Eastertide: “but they chanced in an outlandish nation, and near a thousand years agone. Mort de ma vie, let us hope it is not true; or at least sore exaggerated. Do but see how all tales gather as they roll!”
Then he reflected again, and all in a moment turned red with ire. “Do ye not blush to play with your book-craft on your unlettered friend, and throw dust in his eyes, evening the saints with these reptiles?”
Then suddenly he recovered his good humour. “Since your heart beats for vermin, feel for the carrion crows! they be as good vermin as these; would ye send them to bed supperless, poor pretty poppets? Why, these be their larder; the pangs of hunger would gnaw them dead, but for cold cut-purse hung up here and there.”
Gerard, who had for some time maintained a dead silence, informed him the subject was closed between them, and for ever. “There are things,” said he, “in which our hearts seem wide as the poles asunder, and eke our heads. But I love thee dearly all the same,” he added, with infinite grace and tenderness.
Towards afternoon they heard a faint wailing noise on ahead; it grew distincter as they proceeded. Being fast walkers they soon came up with its cause: a score of pikemen, accompanied by several constables, were marching along, and in advance of them was a herd of animals they were driving. These creatures, in number rather more than a hundred, were of various ages, only very few were downright old: the males were downcast and silent. It was the females from whom all the outcry came. In other words, the animals thus driven along at the law's point were men and women.
“Good Heaven!” cried Gerard, “what a band of them! But stay, surely all those children cannot be thieves; why, there are some in arms. What on earth is this, Denys?”
Denys advised him to ask that “bourgeois” with the badge; “This is Burgundy: here a civil question ever draws a civil reply.”