Soon she came out with that little silver cup, which we had found in the penthouse when we first opened it, and asked me if she might give it to the hermits.
"They will have no use for it," I said, smiling at the thought.
"I think they will," she said.

"Ask, for I cannot." So I asked the brother who was with us, and he looked at the cup gravely.

It was wrought with a strangely twisted and plaited pattern.
"Why, yes," he said.

"I myself can set a stem to it, and thereafter it will be a treasure to us, for our chalice is but of white metal.
It will mind us of you every day, in ways which are more wondrous than you can yet know.

We may take it, therefore, but you must not offer us aught else.