It carried no physical pain with it, nor imprisonment within material walls. Of itself, it did not dip into the purse, or shear away house and land. Of itself, it did not say, “Leave your home, penitent, and wander to many a shrine, know many calvaries!” Incidentally it might have come after—most often it did come after—these lesser things. It was rarely bound, like the mark of Cain, upon the young in offending. It came somewhat rarely upon any but the poor. So long as there was any wealth there might be compounding for something less than the millstone.... It was not likely to be imposed for any less time than a long, long while. Perhaps it was worn for years, perhaps they died wearing it. It weighed hardly anything materially, but it weighed life down. The people regarded it with superstitious horror. It said, “Lo, shadow and substance of sin that may hardly be pardoned! Lo, here the Obdurate, the Ancient and Resigned to the Prince of the Power of the Air—preserved that ye may see—set aside in the midst of you that ye may know! Not to be touched, not to be dealt with in pleasant, human ways—any more than a leper!” Garin looked. His face had paled beneath the stain applied by the true Elias. “Ah!” he said, “what people of the future comes, my Lady Audiart, from such as you!” The other stood up, her sewing finished. She drew the cloak over her shoulders, and her right arm and side showed the saffron cross. Her dark eyes met Garin’s. “Now you are my brother. We are twin, and Saint Peter himself would not have you utterly forsake me! Let us go.” They came out from the crack in the earth and proceeded to cross the burned strip. All in all, they had now penetrated some distance in the dragon’s field. When they looked over their shoulder, Roche-de-Frêne yet showed with grandeur in the morning light, against the south-east quarter of a fleckless sky. But it showed as somewhat distant.... Garin understood now that they were to cross the dragon’s field, to leave it behind them, to escape as quickly as might be from its poisonous breath, from the reach of its talons. He saw also that, danger-grown as was their path of travel, it was the least so that should have been taken from the beleaguered place. The dragon lay here, too, but not, perhaps, the brain nor eyes of him. The day shone bright and cool. Directly ahead a large campfire yet smoked and smouldered, and right and left of it and beyond grew the somewhat tattered tents of Cap-du-Loup’s force. In the assault, on the way to the assault, Cap-du-Loup drove his men like a storm. At other times he let them live as they would.