"Nay, what is this? And thy father?"

"He was a gentle knight who died in battle ere I knew him. I came
a little child to the Monastery, and know no other place."

"Ah,"--vindictively,--"then THY mother may have been a light o'
love."

"Light of love; it has a wondrous fair sound," said Hilarius with a
smile.

The maid looked at him speechless.

"GO HOME, BOY," she said at last emphatically.

Just then a lad, a tumbler by his dress, pushed a way through the
undergrowth, and stood grinning at the pair.

"So, Gia!" he said. "We must make haste; the others wait."

"'Tis my brother," said the dancer, "and"--pointing to the bag
slung across the youth's shoulder--"I trust he hath a fine fat hen
from thy Monastery for our meal."

Hilarius broke into a cold sweat.

The Convent's hens! The Saints preserve us! Was nothing sacred,
and were the Ten Commandments written solely for use in the
Monasteries?