The friar laughed aloud at that, and the lingering apprehension left his eyes, which thus relieved grew pleasanter to look upon.
'Lord! Lord! And I like a fool and coward, having almost trod upon you, was for creeping off in haste, supposing you a sleeping robber. This forest is a very sanctuary of thieves. They infest it, thick as rabbits in a warren.'
'Why, then, do you adventure in it?'
'Why? Ohé! And what shall they steal from a poor friar-mendicant? My beads? My girdle?' He laughed again. A humorous fellow, clearly, taking a proper saintly joy in his indigenous condition. 'No, no, my brother. I have no cause to go in fear of thieves.'
'Yet supposing me a thief, you were in fear of me?'
The man's smile froze. This stripling's simple logic was disconcerting.
'I feared,' he said at last, slowly and solemnly, 'your fear of me. A hideous passion, fear, in man or beast. It makes men murderers at times. Had you been the robber I supposed you, and, waking suddenly, found me beside you, you might have suspected some intent to harm you. It is easily guessed what would have followed then.'
Bellarion nodded thoughtfully. No explanation could have been more complete. The man was not only virtuous, but wise.
'Whither do you journey, brother?'
'To Pavia,' Bellarion answered him, 'by way of Santa Tenda.'