"No, not as a general thing."
"I'm sorry for that. If it were, the people would perhaps give us shelter and food, and help us on our way."
"The people would perhaps give us more shelter than we might care for. But come—we ought to be off, for you need rest, and that soon."
The lady said nothing, but walked along with the priest. For about a quarter of a mile they followed the road, and then turned away to the left over the country. Here their pathway lay over the flank of the mountain, and traversed open fields which were used for pasture. The moon shone brightly, illuminating the scene, and the priest walked with the assured air of one who knew his way thoroughly.
The lady, who all along had seemed much fatigued, now began to give more evident signs of distress. The priest made her take his arm: she did so, and for a time was relieved. He sought to cheer her with encouraging words. She responded nobly, and certainly made all the effort in her power; but her strength had that day been too sorely tasked, and threatened to fail her utterly. At last she sank to the ground, and sat there, while the priest waited patiently.
"Courage!" said he. "Cheer up! We shall soon be there now."
After a short rest the lady recovered a little, and made a final effort. They walked on as before, the lady holding the priest's arm, and moving forward by dint of desperate exertions. So they went until at last there appeared immediately ahead a massive tower, which seemed to arise from behind some trees.
"There it is," said the priest. "One more effort."
But the lady could go no farther. She sank down on the ground once more, with something like a groan.
"I can go no farther," said she, in a faint voice.