THE GENTLE ROBBER

"WHAT!" THUNDERED HIS MAJESTY

"Ay!" said the Fool, nodding; "there is no other way. The Princess Pourquoi has lighted in this land a fire that can be put out in only one fashion. Let a foundation be made; let walls arise; let lecturers come. Naught save a university curriculum will avail now to dull the wits and divert the minds and check the thought of women."

"In truth you have a pretty wit," said the King, and he smiled. "But who will take charge of this undertaking and plan me the work that it may avail?"

"I," said the Jester. "Who else? Cap and gown would become me well, and though the King may lose his fool, he will gain My Lord Rector, who will speak bravely in the Latin tongue."

"And whom can we trust to aid in the work?" asked his Majesty.

"Lend me but the philosophers," said the Jester, with a wink, "and their natural parts shall prevail where intent might come badly off in this great task of dulling women's wits."

Then the two spoke long between themselves, and when they had finished, the Jester went and called the pages, and the great doors were thrown open, so that all entered as they had gone, and there was shimmer of silk and shining of jewels and gleaming of armor. The seven maidens came trembling in every limb, not knowing but their heads should fall, and they knelt as before at the foot of the throne, only now they had nothing to say. Then the Kinglifted up his voice and, smiling, said that it should be even as they had desired, and that learning and wisdom should be theirs. In one thing only should change be made: they should not mingle with the herd of men, but should have, sequestered and apart, a place of learning for womankind. When they heard this, Sylvie leaned her face upon the head of Natalie and wept for joy; and Natalie hers upon the head of Amelie, and Amelie upon Virginie, and Virginie upon Sidonie, and Sidonie upon Dorothée, and Dorothée upon little Clementine, and because Clementine had nowhere to lean her head, she wept into her own dimples.

Then the King's Fool went away and did not come again, and of this there was greattalk for three days, and then all was forgotten, for another jester filled his place. One day appeared at court a grave gentleman clad all in flowing black, bearded, and with eyes cast down in a sort of inward look. All called him My Lord Rector, and none knew him for the King's Jester because he had changed his cap. He spoke but little, and that in Latin, as "Verbum sat sapienti; depressus extollor; veni, vidi, vici;" and if he made gibe or jest, there were none who could understand.

There was upon the outskirts of the city a great building that had once been the Palace of Justice, but was no longer used because a loftier one had been erected in the square where the minster rose. This stood not far from the river-bank, and wasall of gray stone that had crumbled somewhat, so that the tracery of leaf and flower in the Gothic windows and the faces and claws of the gargoyles that peered from roof and corner were in many places worn away. It was built on three sides of a great court, where now grass and vine and flower grew unchecked, on the spot once worn by the feet of gathering citizens and the tramp of steeds. Bluebird and swallow and wren had entered through the broken windows, and had built about the window niches and in the crannies of the carven vine. This, said the King, should be the place of learning consecrated to the maidens, for it was not meet that they should gather in the market square or on the hill beyond the minster, as young men did in those days when thousandscame together to listen to philosophical disputes, and no roof was sufficient to cover them. Workmen came and mended broken arch and column, and cleared away the tangled vines of the court, but left growing grass and flower, and did not touch the nesting birds, for the seven lovely sisters begged that they might stay. Hither flocked innumerable damsels, who came riding from all parts of the kingdom, with squires before them and waiting-maids behind. They came on black jennet and white palfrey and pony of dapple gray; maiden madness had run throughout the kingdom, and all who could sit on saddle or hold rein rushed hither for their share of the new learning. Many were pursued by father or brother, by maiden aunt or widowed mother, beggingthem to abide at home in safety as modest maidens should.

CAME RIDING FROM ALL PARTS OF THE KINGDOM

It was noised abroad that the Lord Rector would deliver the first lecture when the new work began, and all were eager to hear; so it came to pass one day that a huge company passed in procession under the carven Gothic gate and into the great hall whose stained windows looked one way on the river and the other way on the court. First, in gown of velvet and of silk, came My Lord Rector, muttering in his beard; after him followed the philosophers, with stately step and slow; and then young squires a-many, who were eager to see what would befall; and lords and ladies in gay clothing, rarely embroidered in choice colors. There were maiden students also, many score, andat their head Sylvie, in scarlet silken gown, and Natalie in green; Amelie in brown velvet, curiously slashed, and Virginie in yellow; Sidonie in blue samite, and Dorothée in silver, and little Clementine in white, as befitted her tender years. Now behold! within the great hall the King was already waiting in a chair of state under a velvet canopy, and My Lord Rector and the philosophers of the new faculty bowed low to him as they entered. Then the Rector mounted upon a platform, and bowing to the King with "Rex augustissimus" he winked in his old fashion and fell a-coughing, and the King winked back and then fell a-sneezing, to hide the smile that his beard only half concealed.

"Viri illustrissimi," continued the Rector,bowing again before his audience and speaking in a solemn voice: "mutatis mutandis, horresco referens, da locum melioribus, dux femina facti, humanum est errare, nil nisi cruce, graviora manent, post nubila Phoebus, sunt lachrimae rerum, vae victis."

The last words came with a quiver of the voice, and many wept, for they did not understand his folly. Then My Lord Rector turned to the fair body of women students and spoke, seeing only the face of little Clementine:—

"Feminae praeclarissimae, credo quia impossibile est, inest Clementia forti, crede quod habes et habeo, sic itur ad astra, toga virilis, vita sine literis mors est, varium et mutabile semper femina, vadein pace," and with this there was hardly a dry eye in the house. So the new university was opened.

Needless to say, the success of the undertaking was great. Throughout the land, bower and hall and dell were left empty, for the maidens had all gone to the capital to get learning. They no longer wrought fair figures in the embroidery frames in the great halls of their ancestral castles, or polished the armor of father and brother, or brewed cordials for the sick over the glowing coals. They no longer wandered in gowns of green on their palfreys by hill or dale for the joy of going. By hundreds they bowed their fair heads before the philosophers as they lectured, taking notes upon the tablets of their minds, for theydid not know how to write. My Lord Rector, when he spoke, could find no room large enough to contain his audiences, so he lectured only on sunshiny days, and stood on a platform in the centre of the great court; and words of grave nonsense fell from his lips as the light fell on golden hair or brown. So intently did the maidens listen that they did not smell the fragrance of the flowers crushed beneath their feet, wild rose and lily and violet, nor did they hear the beat of the wings of startled birds, nor see red crest, or golden wing, or blue, flash across the sky.

Being a cunning man and keen, My Lord Rector had left to the flocking students the choice of the lectures that they should pursue.

"Let them but manage it themselves," he said, smiling wickedly, at a private audience with the King, "and we shall see great things."

So the maidens met in assembly and consulted gravely together, and conferred with Rector and with faculty, and presently many branches of learning were established and all was going with great vigor. Each student chose for herself what course she should pursue, and it was pretty to see how maiden whims worked out into hard endeavor. Black-haired Sylvie specialized in dramatics, for she made, with her sweeping locks, an excellent tragedy queen; Natalie in athletics, and she took the standing high-jump better than any knight in Christendom; golden-haired Amelie devoted all hertime to fiddling and giglology, and soon became proficient; Virginie, of the brown eyes, took ping-pong and fudge; blue-eyed Sidonie, acrostics and charades; Dorothée took chattering and cheering, and soon her sweet voice could be heard above the noise of building, or the roar of battle; while little Clementine worked at all branches of frivology, and became a great favorite, for in looks and in manner and in taste she represented that which is most pleasing in woman.

To tell of all they did and learned and thought would be too long a tale, and, moreover, the records of much of it have perished, but men say that their life was both strenuous and merry, and that womankind blossomed out into new beauty of faceand form and mind. The infinite range of opportunity has been but faintly shadowed forth in the hints already given; and to those who philosophized and those who poetized, those who took societies and those who took cuts, life was one long burst of irrelevant, joyous activity. Most zealous of all the students was little Clementine. Ceaselessly alert, she listened with upturned face to lectures in the great flower-grown court; with infantile audacity she ventured out into vast unknown realms of thought, and puckered her white forehead in trying to work out the unutterable syllable. Now she walked the cloisters where the shadow of carven leaf and tendril fell on her hair, studying a parchment; and again, in moments of relaxation, she rodeher dog-eared pony fast and furiously. To some this animal may seem strange, but there were many queer creatures in those days, as Sir John Maundeville tells.

It came to pass, no one knows how, that nothing done by little Clementine escaped the notice of My Lord Rector, for his eyes followed her always. When he lectured, he lectured to Clementine; whether he said words of Latin or of the vulgar tongue, he spoke them to her eyes; and he was ashamed of the learned nonsense he was speaking when he gazed on Clementine. Sleeping, he saw her walking so-and-so under the shadow of Gothic arch with leaf shadows on her face, and he dreamed of taking the parchment from her white fingers and—But here he always woke, though he triedto dream farther. Clearly, something had happened to him that neither his experience as Sir Fool nor as Lord Rector had prepared him to understand.

Save for this haunting thought, he was very gay behind a solemn face. Dearly he loved his task, and none but the King and himself heard the faint tinkle of bells from under his scholar's cap. Always they greeted each other with Latin words, and they had many conferences wherein they chuckled together over the success of their plan, for they knew that they had drawn all these women forth to follow after the very shadow of learning, and that the end would leave them more ignorant than before. Always, however, in these moments of mirth, like a stab at the heart came tothe Lord Rector the thought of deception practiced upon Clementine. Her trusting eyes, lifted to him in uttermost faith, reproached him by night and by day. If, by force, he put his conscience from him, he was sure to see her face as she listened, hiding in the recesses of her heart the silly words he said. Once, as she went alone toward the lodgings, and he followed at a great distance, a foot-pad set upon her in a dark corner, where a stone stairway gave shelter to thieves, and My Lord Rector, rushing forward, struck lustily about him right and left and felled the knave, taking from him the lady's netted purse and giving it back to her. She said no word save one of thanks, but after, when her eyes were raised, he saw that a newlight had been added to the old, and that little Clementine reverenced him not only as a learned man, but as a brave one, too.

So weeks drifted by, and months, and then came a great event, for the maidens had determined to carry out a custom that belonged to that olden time and formed the final test of the scholar. All agreed that Clementine, brave, childish, perverse little Clementine, should initiate the new audacity. Therefore, one early morning, when the first rays of the sun were just peeping over the high stone city wall, she might have been observed stealing in academic garb of black over her white dress to the great oak, iron-studded door of the old Palace of Justice. Here, with a stone,she hammered a long parchment, and she established herself hard by, so that all who saw her knew that she was there to defend against all comers the theses she had nailed up. Now there were eight, and they ran as follows:—

1. That the ineffable and the intangible are not the same.

2. That all that is not, is, and all that seems to be, is not.

3. That—but it would be foolish to transcribe all the theses that little Clementine defended, for no one would understand. Suffice it to say that they were subtle beyond the mind of man, and clothed in words drawn from the deep abyss of the inane, where unborn thought goes ever crying for birth. One by one her six sisters cameagainst her and argued, but to no avail, for little Clementine, no less skillful than David of yore, gathered together verb and adjective and slung them so unerringly that antagonist after antagonist went down, and she, often snubbed as being but the youngest, stood forth in the eyes of the admiring crowd a victor.

The picture that she made, standing against that gray stone wall flecked with green moss, with a grinning gargoyle leaning down toward her, was very sweet. In little Clementine the brown hair and the golden hair, the brown eyes and the gray eyes, of the family met in a peculiarly bewitching combination that had a chameleon quality of color constantly changing. Moreover, as she argued in well-chosenwords, she was unconsciously establishing the unspoken thesis:—

That four dimples may exist at the same time in a maiden's face without seeming too many.

This My Lord Rector saw, and something gave way within him. When the argument was over and the audience was departing, he called Clementine to him inside the gate as one who would ask something, and then stood speechless. The maiden, who was flushed and weary, lifted her scholar's cap, and he saw, in the locks of hair that were neither brown nor gold, pearls woven; and above the collar of the gown showed the embroidered white samite of her dress.

"Little Clementine," said My Lord Rector,"your student life is almost done. Does that fact cause rejoicing?"

"Nay," said Clementine, casting down her eyes.

"Shall you grieve for anything left behind?"

"Ay," said the maiden.

"And what?" asked My Lord Rector.

"The learned lectures, the dissertations, the wise words," said Clementine, looking up and dimpling.

"And any special ones?" asked he, wondering if she heard about him the jingle of bells.

"Ay," said Clementine, smoothing her gown with slim white fingers and setting her lips together. Not another word would she say, though the great man begged humbly.

"Clementine," asked My Lord Rector, changing the subject, "shall you ever wed?"

"If the right man comes," said the maiden.

"And what must he be?"

"He must be very wise."

"Am I wise, little one?" asked the Rector.

"Wisest of all," answered the maiden, whispering.

Then he took her white hand in his and said softly, "Amo. Amas?" but Clementine did not understand a word of Latin. Looking up, however, she saw something she did understand, and then My Lord Rector bent and kissed her hand, wisely using the old, old way of wooing that wasfound before words, Latin or other, were invented.

Then Clementine drew back trembling and looked, and behold, he who had been but a wonderful voice was changed, and she saw that he was a man, and young, and comely, with merry eyes touched with sadness, and a mouth whose curves were both cynical and sweet.

"Why, why should you choose me?" asked the maiden, in a voice that shook for reverence.

"Because you are so adorably foolish!" cried the lover, forgetting, and that was a mistaken speech, which mere words could not explain away.

It was agreed between them that none should know what had befallen until theday when old Count Benoît and his Lady Myriel came up to the city to take home their seven daughters, for their work was counted done. So the two lived a glad life, though they spoke but seldom; often a glance of the eyes made food for both day and night. All the time My Lord Rector's conscience pricked him more and more, until he could no longer bear it, and one day, coming upon Clementine where she passed the path by the rippling river, near three willow trees that were freshly leaved out, for it was spring, he told her the tale of how he and the King had deceived womankind, and, with torture of spirit, confessed himself the King's Fool. Then Clementine looked up at him with eyes where the gray and the brown seemed flecked with green,perchance from the shadow of the willows, and said firmly:—

"I have always seen that they who call themselves fools are the least so," nor could he ever after by any words of confession shake her steadfast faith in his wisdom.

At last came the day when Count Benoît arrived, and with him cousins and other kin from far and near, for all would know something of the strange new ways in the city. At lecture hour all crowded together in the great hall, and again the King was there upon the dais, solemn of look, but merry of heart, for his eyes twinkled under his heavy eyebrows as he looked at the fair, fresh faces before him, innocent of thought as any other maidens' faces, and he chuckled to think how he and his dear Foolhad outwitted them all. Then he looked with affection at his trusty philosophers who stood near in silk robes with slashes of velvet and hoods of rainbow colors, and he thanked heaven that had given him strong supporters in the crisis that had threatened his kingdom. Gazing upon the assembled audience of friends and kinsfolk, he rejoiced to think that for them, as for him, the country had been saved.

But My Lord Rector was speaking in the Latin tongue, "ad hoc gradum admitto...," and Sylvie, Natalie, Amelie, Virginie, Sidonie, Dorothée, and little Clementine, with all the other maidens who had frolicked with them merrily so long a time, arose, as pretty a sight to see as ever king in Christendom had beforehim, and their new honors fell upon untroubled white foreheads. Then there was sound of rejoicing, and light shone through the stained windows on the glad faces and gay garments of the people assembled there; and suddenly, lo! My Lord Rector stepped from his high place and went to take the hand of little Clementine. With eyes cast down she followed him, and now she was rosy and now pale, and so the two kneeled at the feet of the king under the canopy.

"We two do crave your Majesty's blessing," said My Lord Rector, "on our betrothal."

Then a ripple of wonder and of laughter ran through the great hall, and his Majesty, smiling, blessed them with extended hands,and as they rose, he bent forward with a twinkle, whispering:—

"You have done well, My Lord Rector, in carrying out your purpose. It is pity that you may not marry them all."

For the first time he found no answering jest in his favorite's eyes, and would have inquired why, but the philosopher who stood nearest, and had caught the whisper, smiled, and taking Sylvie's hand, led her to the foot of the throne, saying:—

"But I, your Majesty, may wed this lady with the King's consent, for she has given hers." Then a second philosopher led forth Natalie, and a third Amelie, and a fourth Virginie, and a fifth Sidonie, and a sixth Dorothée, and behold! the seven sisters were again kneeling before thethrone awaiting the King's blessing, but with their lovers at their sides.

Then his Majesty leaned back his head and roared with laughter till the vaulted ceiling reëchoed, and tears of mirth ran down his cheeks and shone upon his beard, and all laughed with him, though they knew not why, all save My Lord Rector, whose face wore the saddest look a man may wear.

"Now, was this planned among you?" asked his Majesty.

Then they shook their heads, and each philosopher said:—

"Forsooth, I thought I was the only one," and with that the King roared again.

In the bustle that followed, when old Count Benoît and his Lady Myriel hungupon the necks of their seven daughters in turn, the King tapped the Lord Rector upon the arm.

"You have builded even better than the promise said," whispered his Majesty. "From this blow shall the aggressive intellect of woman not arise."

But the Rector looked gloomily upon him and knelt again, and begged that his Majesty would release him from further service that he might go to the wars.

"Two parts of the Fool have I played for your Majesty," said the man bitterly, "and from both I would be released, for you and I have done a great wrong."

Little Clementine had drawn nearer, and many-colored light of purple and crimson and gold fell on her fair face and partedlips as she looked in wonder at her lover. Then the King saw and understood, and he was ashamed.

"Nay, My Lord Rector," he said, bending low, "what we have done of wrong we will right. You shall even go on with the task set before you, and that that you do lack of a wise man shall this woman's faith make good."

THE GENTLE ROBBER

Once there was a robber bold—not that he looked bold, for he had the gentlest of manners and the most persuasive tongue. It was with a certain manly shyness that he approached his victims, and his voice was very low and soft as he convinced them how greatly to their interest it would be to hand over their purses, so that many went on through the green forest paths with empty pockets, it is true, but with eyes full of tears of gratitude for the benefactor who had held them up.

"Pray don't mention it!" said the Robber Chief, as he deprecatingly thrust into his wallet the purses he had taken and heard the outpoured thanks. "It is nothing, nothing! You would have done as much for me at any time if you had"—he never finished his sentence, but the wistful admiration of the man with empty pockets always added the right clause—"if you had had the brains."

Now the Gentle Robber, it need hardly be said, was highly successful in his chosen calling, or, as he put it, "the holy saints had given him rich possessions." He had started out moderately in a remote corner of the forest, as became a young and unassuming retail cut-purse, but soon his domain extended from his own retired dellto the adjacent glade, and the merry outlaw who had prospered there gave up the business and became a scrivener's clerk. It was not long before the Robber Chief owned the whole forest: the title-deeds, to be sure, belonged to the Abbey, which lay in a fat green meadow at the edge of the wood, but the monks could not work the forest as the robber could, and whatever harvest of gold and of silver, of jewels, of rich cloths from the packs of merchants of the East was to be gathered there, this one man reaped in his own apologetic way, which always seemed to beg pardon of those who were despoiled, for doing them so much good at one time. Soon the country round the forest was his, and yokel, franklin, and squire, Sir Bertram from theCastle, and the Prior from the Abbey, began to render him accounts, and it came to pass that the Bishop at the capital city, Mertoun, and the King upon his throne, and the strong nobles about him trembled at the robber's name, for the waves of his power flowed out until they met the waves of the sea.

Dearly the Gentle Robber loved his work in all its aspects, and he was master of its least details. A brave fight with a sturdy yeoman going home from market with a half-year's gains was joy to him, and merry in his ears was the sound of the thwack, thwack, thwack of the oaken staves as they fell on head and shoulders; an encounter with a rich merchant's train brought him naught but exhilaration, and the deft, swifthand that emptied the pack and purse thrilled as it went about its chosen task. There was slow, sensuous pleasure in stripping off the garments of knight and of squire and leaving their limbs uncovered to the cold. Daintiest amusement of all was the spoiling of widow and of orphan: something of the ascetic lingered in the bosom of the Robber Chief, and rare and delicate was the task of emptying the scantily furnished larder, of carrying away the worn clothes, and the single jewel saved from the wreck of happier days. He found delight in feeling about his knees the clasp of the thin arms of the naked orphan as it wept for food, for genius knows no distinction of small and great, and yeoman and squire, knight and merchant, widow andorphan alike, thrilled him with a sense of his power, and through their cries sang in his ear the word "success."

In the course of time it came to pass that he became the chief support of the kingdom which he had caused to totter as he swept its riches into his own bulging pockets. When he came to court, as he sometimes did, wearing grave apparel and showing a modest face, the King leaned lovingly upon him; was he not financing the war with Binnamere and causing a half-dozen universities, which had but lately come into fashion, to rise in different parts of the land? The Bishop conferred weightily with him in quiet corners; was he not building the great cathedral which was to be the glory of the city throughout coming ages?

"Nay, nay, nay!" said the Bishop, waving a white, jeweled hand as the Chief began to divulge some of his larger plans. "Tell me not of thy wicked schemes! Thy methods I must condemn utterly, but if thou bringest me the money, well, I can at least see to it that it be not used for bad purposes. And speaking of money, we need for the walls of the apse a hundred bags of gold. Dost thou think thou couldst manage it?"

"Ay," said the Gentle Robber, and that night he despoiled nine men, killing three that resisted longest, for he was a great lover of Holy Church, and a devout believer, nor could she ask of him any service that he would not perform.

Now the lust for gold is a strange thing.There be that gather it together into stockings and go hungry and dirty to the day's end for gold, and that is the miser's lust. There be that win it and spend it again freely for delicate food and fiery drink, and this is the sensualist's lust. There be that get it by cruel means and scatter it abroad on church and hospital, and this is the philanthropist's lust, which possessed the Robber Chief. Gold and jewels were piled so high in his forest cave that he could not see out of its window, and he hardly knew whether winter snow or the shadow of flickering leaves lay on the ground, nor could hungry church nor greedy halls of learning lessen his piles of treasure enough to let the sunlight in.

Far on the edge of the kingdom to eastwardlived blunt Sir Guy of Lamont, and his son and heir was a young squire, Louis by name, who had grown up much alone, wandering in the greenwood that circled the castle. Strong of arm and lusty he grew, yet cared not for the hunt, for he was friend to fox and hare, and the wild deer knew and loved him. Living close to spreading oak and delicate beech, among green leaves and nesting things, he began to wear the look of those who see more than meets the eye, and knight and franklin chaffed him as he sat apart while they grew merry over mug of ale or glass of wine in his father's hall. As he dreamed his dreams and thought his thoughts, rumors of the deeds of the Robber Chief floated to his ears, and he was sorelypuzzled. It was a wandering merchant who brought the tale, spreading out his stuffs of velvet and of silk over table and settle and chair, and showing three great fresh sword-cuts on his arm as he spoke:—

"Andrew, my brother, lost his head in the encounter, and it was severed by a single blow, but I escaped, though there be few that may."

HE BEGAN TO WEAR THE LOOK OF THOSE WHO SEE MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE

With that he recounted all the tales that he had heard in his wanderings of the wrong-doing of this man, and they were many. Sir Guy listened with "Zounds!" and "'Sdeath!" but the youth said never a word of pity or of blame; yet, when the story-teller had finished, he marveled at the lad's eyes. They were gray eyes, withlashes dark and long, and the look in them was as the look in the eyes of a gentle beast when he is hurt to the death; then came to them the sudden fire of the avenger of misdeeds.

"My hour has come to fight," said young Louis of Lamont to the great stag that licked his hand that evening in the forest as the sun went down in golden haze. "Men do not know this cruel wrong; I must go to tell them, and mayhap lead them forth with banner and with sword."

Early the next morning, when all were making merry at the hunt, he set the face of his snow-white steed to westward and rode down long, green, leafy ways and across a great level plain toward the settingof the sun. In doublet and hose of scarlet, laced with gold thread, he was comely to see, with a white plume in his velvet cap, and thick hair of yellow, clipped evenly at his neck, and on his face the beauty that shines out from a light within. All day he journeyed on, yearning to meet alone the Robber Chief, whom he pictured as a man brawny of arm and of evil countenance, wherein black brows hid the sinister eyes, and a black beard covered a cruel mouth; and the lad longed with the lusty strength of untried youth to measure swords with this terrible foe. That night a woman gave him shelter at a wayside hut, and told a tale of the Chief that chilled the young man's blood; the next night, as he lodged at a hall, deeds yet more cruelwere recounted to him; and ever as he came nearer the heart of the kingdom, he found the air more rife with tidings of the Robber Chief's ill doings.

"They do not know," he said, lightly touching spur to his steed. "The King and the Bishop do not know of these wicked things. Pray God that I may come in time to lead men forth!"

At the edge of a great forest he met, one day, a tired-looking man on a tired horse. The rider was neatly clad in sober gray, and was both freshly shaven and neatly combed. Across his saddle lay a great bag of something that was wondrous heavy.

"Halt!" said the man, with a pleasant glance from his mild blue eyes. Then bloodrose red to the young squire's cheek, and anger too great for any words lighted in his eyes, as his hand went to his dagger, and he urged his horse forward. It was a brave fight that he made, while the two steeds drew near and parted and drew near again, but a slender white hand with an iron grip reached deftly and snatched the dagger from his hand, nor could he reach the short sword which he had so proudly belted to his side; and the strength of his adversary was as the strength of ten.

"Nay, be not foolish," said a soft voice, as the lad struck out with stinging fist; "'tis but thy purse I ask, and it would grieve me to do thee wrong. The purses of the kingdom belong to me."

"Now, by what right?" cried Louis ofLamont, between set teeth, his cheeks flaming deeper red.

"By the right of having wit enough to get them," answered the robber. Then he pinioned the lad's arm to his side and thrust a deft hand into his pocket, drawing out a purse of wrought gold.

"It will be to thy best advantage if thou canst but see it that way," he said courteously.

In the mind of the other the vision of dark, beetling brows and red, hairy cheeks was fading.

"Thou—thou art the Robber Chief," he stammered. His adversary bowed.

"It is thou who didst murder Baron Divonne, and who didst starve the Squire's daughter of Yverton with her seven children,and"—So great was his horror of the tales that flocked to his tongue that he failed to speak them, but a light as from the wings of the Angel of Judgment shone from his eyes and brow.

"The question is not, 'Shall I take thy purse?'" the Chief said gently. "I have it. The question is, 'How shall I dispose of it to the best advantage?'"

"It isn't that! I do not want the purse," said the young man scornfully; "but how canst thou traffic in crime?"

"I have little time for talking," said the Gentle Robber, with a hurt look on his face; he was extremely sensitive to adverse criticism. "Now I must be off. This great bag of gold is for the orphan hospital at the Abbey. If I may mention itwithout boasting, it derives most of its supplies from me," and he looked wistfully for approval.

"Its supplies of orphans?" demanded Louis of Lamont, with his stern young lip curved in scorn; but the face of the other was as the face of a man who has failed to teach a great lesson of good.

As the lad rode on through the forest, his head was bent as if a hand had struck it and had laid it low, but coming into the open, he saw far off, across the valley, the spires of the capital city, Mertoun, and its many red roofs gleaming by the blue river, and his heart throbbed within him for thankfulness and joy.

"Hasten!" he cried to the beast that bore him. "Yonder in that strong citybe strong men to help me right ill deeds, and a minute gained may save some woman's life, or spare the bitter crying of a child."

His eyes were filled with a vision of the knights that would go out with him to war for the right, with the waving of plumes and the flaming of banners, in their hearts the anger of God for cruel wrong; and a yearning for coming combat tugged at the muscles of shoulder and of arm.

The palace of the Bishop was moated, and there was a drawbridge there, and within, as on a green island, rose walls of fine gray stone, with window arch and doorway delicately carved. There was one at hand who took his steed, and one who led the way for him, and anon hefound himself in a sunlit chamber where the Bishop stood looking out upon the great cathedral which was rising stone by stone, with its blue-clad workmen standing against a bluer sky.

"What is it, my son?" asked the Bishop, when he saw a young squire standing before him, worn, dust-stained, with anger burning in his eyes.

"Sire," said the guest, bending low, "I have hasted thither to tell thee of great wrongs."

"They shall be redressed," said the Bishop, laying his hand upon the lad's head.

"There is a man," said Louis of Lamont, kneeling, his lips white with wrath, "who doeth cruel wrong and bringeth folk todeath, and it must needs be that none in high places know, for he goeth unpunished."

"He shall be found and placed in my lowest dungeon," said the Bishop fiercely. "Now tell me what he hath done."

"On my way hither I lodged with a poor woman who told me that he had slain before her eyes her husband and her sons, and all for a cup of silver coin that stood upon the mantel."

"A mere cup of silver coin!" groaned the Bishop. "He shall hang."

Then he told of the murder of Baron Divonne, and of the Squire's daughter of Yverton, who was starved with her seven children; and he told all the tales that the wandering merchant had brought with hiscloths of cashmere and of silk. As he spoke longer, the face of his host grew anxious, and when he finished, saying, "Men call him the Gentle Robber," black care sat upon the brow of the host.

"Delay not," pleaded Louis. "Give me armed men, for thou hast said that he shall die for his sins, and I have the blood of fighters in my veins."

"Nay, child," said the Bishop. "Not so."

"Thou hast promised!" he cried in amaze.

"Ay," he made answer, "but I knew not then that the offenses were so many and so great, or that the enterprise was—ahem!—planned upon so large a scale. That makes all different."

"That makes the need to punish him a thousandfold greater," stammered the lad.

"Tut, tut!" said the Bishop, with the solemn smile he wore. "Thou dost not understand: logic is ever lacking in the young."

"Should not stripes be laid upon him for each cry he hath drawn forth? Should he not lay down his life, if that were possible, for each life he hath taken?"

"I had thought, when I heard the first tale, that he should die for the single crime," the Bishop made answer, "but the case is altered by the later facts. 'A life for a life,' saith the Scripture, but naught of a life for a dozen or threescore, or an hundred, as the case may be."

Then a flame of anger shone out in the lad's face, and he waited.

"My son," said the Bishop tenderly, "thou art young and ignorant, yet will I try to teach thee something of right ways of thought. In judging, all depends upon the point of view, and matters that look often black at first statement grow white or gray when thoroughly understood. Let us look upon this question in another aspect. Dost see yonder great cathedral rising?"

Though the youth made no answer, the Bishop saw that he was looking at the gray stones and at the blue-clad workmen.

"'Tis God's house," said the Bishop, "nor may it arise save through the gifts of this man. Wrong hath he done, but all is forgiven for that his gold is bent to holy purposes."

"But wrong he doeth still," said Louis of Lamont, in the stern voice of youth.

The Bishop coughed behind his hand even while he spoke.

"There is much in the ways of Providence that we may not comprehend. God moveth in a mysterious way."

"Had the Robber Chief ceased from his crime and shown true penitence"—began the lad, but the Bishop interrupted.

"God hath need of the man and of all the gold that he will bring, that institutions of learning and holy places may arise in the land."

"God may be worshiped by wood and stream," said the youth, in the still, small voice of one who knew; "nor hath He need of gold that is the price of sufferingand pain and tears;" and so he turned and went down the steps, worn and weary, with dust on his crimson garments, and shame on his spirit, and the light of his face grown dim.

It had come back to its shining, however, the next day, when he went before the King.

"It may well be that there is one bad man who hath power," he said to himself, "and he the Bishop; but God would not grant that all be so," and hope beamed again from his eyes.

"'Tis the son of my old friend, Guy of Lamont, sayest thou?" cried the King, as he raised the lad's chin with one royal finger. "By my troth, 'tis his father's face again, but different."

"Sire," said Louis, as he did reverence, "I have come to tell of cruel wrong, and to win from thee a promise of redress."

"Thou shalt have it!" cried the King, with his hand upon his sword. "Friend or child of my friend went never yet uncomforted from the foot of my throne. Speak thy wrong."

Then the youth told him all that he had told the Bishop, and added thereto other tales, and hope shone sternly in his eyes.

"Send forth with me a band of thy men-at-arms," prayed the suppliant. "Even now, perchance, are orphans made that might have grown tall in happiness save for this man's lust for gold."

Then the King looked about, and his face grew dark with anger, for some halfsmiled and hid their smiles as best they could with jeweled hand or velvet sleeve; some showed fear at seeing this thing, which was not breathed at court, boldly brought to light.

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