"You are no priest, but holy peddler!" cried Gabord roughly.
"This is not mating as Christians, and fires of hell shall
burn--aho! I will see you all go down, and hand of mine shall
not be lifted for you!"
He puffed out his cheeks, and his great eyes rolled so like
fire-wheels.
"You are a witness to this ceremony," said the chaplain. "And
you shall answer to your God, but you must speak the truth for this
man and wife."
"Man and wife?" laughed Gabord wildly. "May I die and be damned
to--"
Like a flash Alixe was beside him, and put to his lips most
swiftly the little wooden cross that Mathilde had given her.
"Gabord, Gabord," she said in a sweet, sad voice, "when you may
come to die, a girl's prayers will be waiting at God's feet for
you."
He stopped, and stared at her. Her hand lay on his arm, and she
continued: "No night gives me sleep, Gabord, but I pray for the
jailer who has been kind to an ill-treated gentleman."
"A juggling gentleman, that cheats Gabord before his eyes, and
smuggles in a mongrel priest!" he blustered.
I waved my hand at the chaplain, or I think he would have put
his Prayer Book to rougher use than was its wont, and I was about
to answer, but Alixe spoke instead, and to greater purpose than I
could have done.
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