"Yes; but I don't mean that. You know I mean something more; why, something really sacrificed—consumed, to make the gods favorable. Have you no such sacrifice in your religion? Then it can't be the true one, I'm sure!"
"Certainly," said St. Joseph, "we have the one true and adorable Sacrifice, of which all others are mere shadows, and some of them very dark, distorted shadows. Every morning we offer to the true and living God that spotless Lamb who alone can take away sin, or be a worthy thank-offering to his majesty and his mercy."
"A lamb?" said Hoel, still musing; "why, that's not to be had at this season. But would nothing else do instead? For example, now, I've a nice—"
"Do not concern yourself," answered St. Joseph, and smiled again, kindly. "We shall be able to provide ourselves in a few days, when we have made acquaintance with the neighborhood. I suppose they grow wine in these parts?"
"Wine?" repeated the peasant, opening his eyes. "Oh! yes, to be sure." Then, after a pause: "You're fond of wine, then, after all, like our own Druids? Well, I should hardly have thought—"
Helaius could hardly repress a smile at his mistake.
Hoel looked at him; then, as if he had hit on the cause of his amusement, laughed his loud clownish laugh, too.
"Wine? Ah! the very best, if you can buy it of those gray-bearded gentlemen; and old mead, and metheglin; or cider from our apples hereabout. We grew a mortal sight of 'em." [Footnote 151]
[Footnote 151: Glastonbury was afterward called by the Saxons Avalon, or the Island of Apples.]
Then he broke out into singing, and a kind of war-dance, to please his companions, as he deemed: