"Hum--always beggars," said the monk. "Very well; go and ring at the
porter's gate. They will give you a bundle of straw and give you bread
and soup." Then he added: "These vagabonds are the plague of religious
houses."
The adventurer became crimson, drew up his tall form, thrust, with a
blow of his fist, his fur cap over his eyes, struck the earth with his
stick, and cried in a threatening tone: "Zounds! Reverend Father, know
your company a little better, at least."
"Who is this old wallet-bearer?" said the irritated monk.
"Because I carry a wallet it does not follow that I ask alms of you,
Reverend Father," said Croustillac.
"What dost thou want, then?"
"I ask a supper and a shelter because your rich convent can well afford
to give bread and shelter to poor travelers. Charity commands this from
your abbot. And beside, in sheltering Christians, you do not give, you
restore. Your abbey grows very fat from its tithes."
"Wilt thou be quiet, thou old heretic, thou insolent old fellow!"
"You call me an insolent old fellow. Very well; learn, Don Surly, that I
have still a crown in my wallet, and that I can do without your straw
and your soup, Don Ribald."
"What dost thou mean by Don Ribald, rascal that thou art?" said the lay
brother, advancing to the top of the steps. "Take care lest I give thy
old rags a good shaking."
"Since we thee-and-thou each other, Don Drinker, take care in thy turn,
Don Greedy, that I do not make thee taste of my stick, Don Big Paunch,
infirm as I am, Don Brutal."
The vigorous monk for a moment made as though he was about to descend to
chastise the Gascon, but he shrugged his shoulders and said to
Croustillac: "If thou hast ever the impudence to present thyself at the
porter's lodge, thou wilt be thrashed to some purpose. That is the kind
of hospitality thou wilt receive henceforth from the Abbey of St.
Quentin." Then addressing himself to the children: "And you be sure to
tell your father that in eight days he pays or quits the farm, for, I
repeat to you, that there is a farmer more solvent than he who wants
it."
The monk shut the door brusquely.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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