Now, too, I comforted myself with believing that, arrive what might, I was wholly quit of Brother Thomas, whereat I rejoiced, like the man in the tale who had sold his soul to the Enemy, and yet, in the end, escaped his clutches by the aid of Holy Church.

Death was better to me than life with Brother Thomas, who must assuredly have dragged me with him to the death that cannot die.

Morning must bring travellers, and my groaning might lead them to my aid.

And, indeed, foot-farers did come, and I did groan as well as I could, but, like the Levite in Scripture, they passed by on the other side of the way, fearing to meddle with one wounded perchance to the death, lest they might be charged with his slaying, if he died, or might anger his enemies, if he lived.
The light was now fully come, and some rays of the blessed sun fell upon me, whereon I said orisons within myself, commanding my case to the saints.

Devoutly I prayed, that, if I escaped with life, I might be delivered from the fear of man, and namely of Brother Thomas.