“Liar or idiot,” said the fiery man of Italie, “thou wilt be cursed for saying it!” “That which I have said I have said,” quoth the prior; “we took thee for a Jew, and the Lord Abbat confessed, then, that thou didst verily look like one, although he hath altered his tone since. And stranger, I now tell thee to thy face (but still the prior looked not in Girolamo’s face) that I believe thou mayest well be that wandering Jew that cannot die until the day of Judgment come.” The Salernitan shrieked rather than said, “This is too horrible, too atrocious! Malignant monk, wouldst drive me mad, and make me slay thee here in the midst of thy brothers?” “In this hallowed place I am safe from thy magic and incantations,” said the prior. Girolamo could not speak, for the words stuck in his throat, but he would, mayhap, have sprung upon the prior with his dagger, if the Lord Abbat had not instantly raised his hand and his voice, and said, “Peace! stranger peace! Let the prior say all that he hath to say, and then thou shalt answer him. Nay, by Saint Etheldreda! by Saint Sexburga, and by every saint in our Calendarium, I will answer him too! For is he not bringing charges against me, and seeking to deprive me of that authority over this house which was given me by heaven, and by King Edward the Confessor, and by the unanimous vote of the brethren of Ely in chapter assembled? Prior, I have long known what manner of man thou art, and how thou hast been pining and groaning and plotting for my seat and crozier; but thou art now bolder than thou wast wont to be. ’Tis well! Therefore speak out, and do ye, my children, give ear unto him. Then speak, prior! Go on, I say!” In saying these words, Lord Thurstan was well nigh as much angered as Girolamo had been; but his anger was of a different kind, and instead of growing deadly pale and ashy like the Salernitan, his face became as red as fire; and instead of moving and clenching his right hand, as though he would clutch some knife or dagger, he merely struck with his doubled fist upon the table before him, giving the table mighty raps. All this terrified the craven heart of the prior, who stood speechless and motionless, and who would have returned to his seat if the cellarer had not approached him and comforted him, and if several cloister-monks of the faction had not muttered, “Go on to the end, oh, prior! thou hast made a good beginning.” And then the prior said, “I will go on if they will give me pledge not to interrupt me until I have done.” “I give the pledge,” said the Abbat; and the Salernitan said, “The pledge is given.”