curiosity and intense amusement; but as a quiet priest of a long-past
age, with contempt and disgust enough, not unmixed with fear and anxiety.

He roared out snatches of doggrel verse as he went along, drinking songs,
hunting songs, robbing songs, lust songs, in a voice that sounded far and
far above the roaring of the wind, though that was high, and rolled along
the dark road that his lantern cast spikes of light along ever so far,
making the devils grin: and meanwhile I, the priest, glanced from him
wrathfully every now and then to That which I carried very reverently in
my hand, and my blood curdled with shame and indignation; but being a
shrewd priest, I knew well enough that a sermon would be utterly thrown
away on a man who was drunk every day in the year, and, more especially,
very drunk then. So I held my peace, saying only under my breath:

"Dixit incipiens in corde suo, Non est Deus. Corrupti sunt et
abominables facti sunt in studiis suis; non est qui faciat bonum, non
est usque ad unum: sepulchrum patens est guttur eorum; linguis suis
dolose agebunt, venenum aspidum sub labiis eorum. Dominum non
invocaverunt; illic trepid-averunt timore, ubi non erat timor. Quis
dabit ex Sion salutare Israel?"

and so I went on, thinking too at times about the man who was dying and
whom I was soon to see: he had been a bold bad plundering baron, but was
said lately to have altered his way of life, having seen a miracle or
some such thing; he had departed to keep a tournament near his castle
lately, but had been brought back sore wounded, so this drunken servant,
with some difficulty and much unseasonable merriment, had made me
understand, and now lay at the point of death, brought about by unskilful
tending and such like. Then I thought of his face--a bad face, very bad,
retreating forehead, small twinkling eyes, projecting lower jaw; and such