"And what like is she?" questioned Beltane.
"She do be like to a stag for grace o' body, and wi' the eyes of a stag—"
"Nay, master, her eyes do be maid's eyes, look'ee, very soft and sweet, and her hair, look'ee—"
"Her hair do be like a forest-pool brim-full o' sunset—"
"Not so, master, her hair is red, look'ee—"
"And each day she do bring us flowers, master—"
"And suckets, look'ee, very sweet and delicate, master."
In a while Beltane arose and going from bed to bed spake with each and every, and went his way, leaving Orson and Jenkyn to their recriminations.
Being come back into the refectory, he found Friar Martin yet busied with the preparations of his cooking, and seating himself upon the great table hard by, fell to a profound meditation, watched ever and anon by the friar's kindly eyes: so very silent and thoughtful was he that the friar presently looked up from slicing and cutting his vegetables and spake with smile wondrous tender:
"Wherefore so pensive, my son?"