len drawers. beside him on a green bank there sat a small

man with a solemn face, and a great bundle of papers of all

colors thrusting forth from the scrip which lay beside him. he

was very richly dressed, with furred robes, a scarlet hood, and

wide hanging sleeves lined with flame-colored silk. a great gold

chain hung round his neck, and rings glittered from every finger

of his hands. on his lap he had a little pile of gold and of

silver, which he was dropping, coin by coin, into a plump pouch

which hung from his girdle.

"may the saints be with you, good travellers!" he shouted, as the

party rode up. "may the four evangelists watch over you! may

the twelve apostles bear you up! may the blessed army of martyrs

direct your feet and lead you to eternal bliss!"

"gramercy for these good wishes!" said sir nigel. "but i

perceive, master alderman, that this man who hangs here is, by

mark of foot, the very robber-knight of whom we have spoken. but

there is a cartel pinned upon his breast, and i pray you,

alleyne, to read it to me."

the dead robber swung slowly to and fro in the wintry wind, a

fixed smile upon his swarthy face, and his bulging eyes still

glaring down the highway of which he had so long been the terror;

on a sheet of parchment upon his breast was printed in rude

characters;

roger pied-bot.

par l'ordre du senechal de castelnau, et de l'echevin de cahors,

servantes fideles du tres vaillant et tres puissant edouard,

prince de galles et d'aquitaine. ne touchez pas, ne coutez

pas, ne depechez pas.

"he took a sorry time in dying," said the man who sat beside him.

"he could stretch one toe to the ground and bear him self up, so

that i thought he would never have done. now at last, however,

he is safely in paradise, and so i may jog on upon my earthly

way." he mounted, as he spoke, a white mule which had been

grazing by the wayside, all gay with fustian of gold and silver

bells, and rode onward with sir nigel's party.

"how know you then that he is in paradise?" asked sir nigel.

"all things are possible to god, but, certes, without a miracle,

i should scarce expect to find the soul of roger clubfoot amongst

the just,"

"i know that he is there because i have just passed him in

there," answered the stranger, rubbing his bejewelled hands

together in placid satisfaction. "it is my holy mission to be a

sompnour or pardoner. i am the unworthy servant and delegate of

him who holds the keys. a contrite heart and ten nobles to holy

mother church may stave off perdition; but he hath a pardon of

the first degree, with a twenty-five livre benison, so that i

doubt if he will so much as feel a twinge of purgatory. i came

up even as the seneschal's archers were tying him up, and i gave

him my fore-word that i would bide with him until he had passed.

there were two leaden crowns among the silver, but i would not

for that stand in the way of his salvation."

"by saint paul!" said sir nigel, "if you have indeed this power

to open and to shut the gates of hope, then indeed you stand high

above mankind. but if you do but claim to have it, and yet have

it not, then it seems to me, master clerk, that you may yourself

find the gate barred when you shall ask admittance."

"small of faith! small of faith!" cried the sompnour. "ah, sir

didymus yet walks upon earth! and yet no words of doubt can

bring anger to mine heart, or a bitter word to my lip, for am i

not a poor unworthy worker in the cause of gentleness and peace?

of all these pardons which i bear every one is stamped and signed

by our holy father, the prop and centre of christendom."

"which of them?" asked sir nigel.

"ha, ha!" cried the pardoner, shaking a jewelled forefinger. thou

wouldst be deep in the secrets of mother church? know then that

i have both in my scrip. those who hold with urban shall have

urban's pardon, while i have clement's for the clementist--or he

who is in doubt may have both, so that come what may he shall be

secure. i pray you that you will buy one, for war is bloody

work, and the end is sudden with little time for thought or

shrift. or you, sir, for you seem to me to be a man who would do

ill to trust to your own merits." this to the alderman of

norwich, who had listened to him with a frowning brow and a

sneering lip.

"when i sell my cloth," quoth he, "he who buys may weigh and feel

and handle. these goods which you sell are not to be seen, nor

is there any proof that you hold them. certes, if mortal man

might control god's mercy, it would be one of a lofty and god-

like life, and not one who is decked out with rings and chains

and silks, like a

pleasure-wench at a kermesse.

"thou wicked and shameless man!" cried the clerk. "dost thou

dare to raise thy voice against the unworthy servant of mother

church?"

"unwor