Then there came an answer.

There rose out of the darkness a face hung all over with hair and near
as black as the hair, with red-rimmed eyes that oozed salt rheum. The
holy man asked him what he wished, and why did he hold his nostrils.

"I wish to speak with your reverence," said Master Richard, "of high
things. I hold my nostrils for that I cannot abide a stench."

The red eyes winked at that.

"I find no stench," said the holy man.

"For that you are the origin of its propagation," said Master Richard,
"and dwell in the midst of it."

It was foolish, I think, of the sweet lad to speak like that, but he was
an-angered that a man should live so. But the holy solitary was not
an-angered.

"And in God's Majesty is the origin of my propagation," he said.
"_Ergo_."

Master Richard could think of no seemly answer to that, and he desired,
too, to speak of high matters; so he let it alone, and told the holy man
his business, and where he lived.

"Tell me, my father," he said, "what is the message that I bear to the
King. It may be that our Lord has revealed it to you: He has not yet