Also, although he had paid the Vicar-General to back him, monks were in no great favour at the English Court, and if this story travelled there, as it might, for even the strengthless dead find friends, it was possible that questions would be asked, questions hard to answer.

Before Heaven he could justify himself for all that he had done, but before King Henry, who would usurp the powers of the very Pope, if the truth should chance to reach the royal ear--ah! that was another matter.
The room was cold after the heat of that great fire; his Southern blood, which had been warm enough, grew chill; loneliness and depression took hold of him; he began to wonder how far in the eyes of God above the end justifies the means.

He opened the door of the place, and holding on to it lest the rough, wintry gale should tear it from its frail hinges, shouted aloud for Brother Martin, one of his chaplains.
Presently Martin arrived, emerging from the cattleshed, a lantern in his hand--a tall, thin man, with perplexed and melancholy eyes, long nose, and a clever face--and, bowing, asked his superior's pleasure.
"My pleasure, Brother," answered the Abbot, "is that you shut the door and keep out the wind, for this accursed climate is killing me.

Yes, make up the fire if you can, but the wood is too wet to burn; also it smokes.

There, what did I tell you?
If this goes on we shall be hams by to-morrow morning.