In the early morning they set forth gravely, as befitted the solemn business they were about.
The precious coffer was laid reverently upon a bed of reeds in the punt, and, as the air was very still, the thick candle was lighted and placed before it. It was a very feeble, dusty, yellow gleam in the sunshine.
They set slowly out, down the brown channel among the rushes. The birds were singing.
The monk blessed the boat and the holy relics, and Lisolè took a last long look at his floating home ere they turned a corner and it passed from view.
He was very silent now that he had left everything. His thoughts were sad, for he was but human. That little refuge had been Home. He had been alone with the memory of Isoult there. They forged up the creek towards the lake, and his eyes fell upon the iron-bound box.
Then his face brightened. He set it towards the Island of Icomb, and made the sign of the cross. Nor did he look back any more.
About half-way over the lake they rested, and ate some bread and broiled fish. Till then Hyla's strong arms had rowed them, and now Lisolè prepared to relieve him.
They were busy with the victuals in the bottom of the boat when a shout floated over the water, sudden and startling. They had thought no one near.
Looking up they saw a large boat manned by many oars, but two hundred yards away. It was strange they had not heard the rattle in the rowlocks.