Their owner at first looked askance and with a somewhat peevish pride at the peasant keeping beside him. Garin had forgotten his garb and the station it assigned him. But the feeling, such as it was, seemed to drift out of the black-clad’s mind. “I grow weary,” he said, “and shall be glad to beg a night’s shelter.”
“Have you travelled far?”
“From Bologna.”
“Bologna! That is in Italy.”
“Yes. The University there. I am going to Paris. It may be that I shall go to Oxford.”
“Ah,” said Garin, with respect. “I understand now why you were talking to yourself. You are a student.”
“That am I. One day I may be Magister or Doctor.” He walked with a lifted gaze. “I serve toward that—and toward the gaining of Knowledge.”
Garin was silent; then he said with some wistfulness, “I, too, would have learning and knowledge.”
The other walked with a rapt gaze. “It is the true goddess,” he said, “it is the Great Love.”