Good night to you." And throwing himself back upon the bed, Crispin sought comfort in sleep.
His limbs were heavy and his heart was sick.
"You misapprehend me, Sir Crispin," cried the lad, stung almost to shame by Galliard's reproach, and also mayhap into some fear that hereafter he should find little mercy for his own lack of it towards a poor fellow-sinner.

"I spoke not as I would judge, but as the Church teaches." "If the Church teaches no better I rejoice that I was no churchman," grunted Crispin.
"For myself," the lad pursued, heeding not the irreverent interruption, "as I have said, I pity you with all my heart.

More than that, so deeply do I feel, so great a loathing and indignation has your story sown in my heart, that were our liberty now restored us I would willingly join hands with you in wreaking vengeance on these evildoers." Sir Crispin laughed.

He judged the tone rather than the words, and it rang hollow.
"Where are your wits, O casuist ?" he cried mockingly.

"Where are your doctrines?
'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord!' Pah!" And with that final ejaculation, pregnant with contempt and bitterness, he composed himself to sleep.
He was accursed he told himself.