In the church porch they found the sexton with a huge pair of scales, and weights of all sizes. Several humble persons were standing by, and soon a woman stepped forward with a sickly child and said, “Be it heavy be it light, I vow, in rye meal of the best, whate'er this child shall weigh, and the same will duly pay to Holy Church, an if he shall cast his trouble. Pray, good people, for this child, and for me his mother hither come in dole and care!”
The child was weighed, and yelled as if the scale had been the font.
“Courage! dame,” cried Gerard. “This is a good sign. There is plenty of life here to battle its trouble.”
“Now, blest be the tongue that tells me so,” said the poor woman. She hushed her ponderling against her bosom, and stood aloof watching, whilst another woman brought her child to scale.
But presently a loud, dictatorial voice was heard, “Way there, make way for the seigneur!”
The small folk parted on both sides like waves ploughed by a lordly galley, and in marched in gorgeous attire, his cap adorned by a feather with a topaz at its root, his jerkin richly furred, satin doublet, red hose, shoes like skates, diamond-hilted sword in velvet scabbard, and hawk on his wrist, “the lord of the manor.” He flung himself into the scales as if he was lord of the zodiac as well as the manor: whereat the hawk balanced and flapped; but stuck: then winked.
While the sexton heaved in the great weights, the cure told Gerard, “My lord had been sick unto death, and vowed his weight in bread and cheese to the poor, the Church taking her tenth.”
“Permit me, my lord; if your lordship continues to press your lordship's staff on the other scale, you will disturb the balance.”
His lordship grinned and removed his staff, and leaned on it. The cure politely but firmly objected to that too.
“Mille diables! what am I to do with it, then?” cried the other.