'Oh, the Gesu, they say, was put in the smelting-pot,' said the charcoal-burner.
Caris felt for the knife which was inside his belt. It had been given back to him with his clothes when he had been set free at the end of his sentence.
'One could find her,' he thought, with a thrill of savage longing. Then he looked down at the dog and across at the green aisles of the pines and chestnuts.
'Let the jade be,' said the forest-man to him. 'You are home again, and 'twas not you who bartered the Christ.'
Caris fondled the haft of the great knife under his waistband.
'She stole the Gesu and sold Him,' he said, in a hushed voice. 'One day I will find her, and I will strike her: once for myself and twice for Him.'