Silent went Beltane, his lips firm-set, his wistful eyes staring ever before him, nor paused he once, nor once glanced back towards that happy Mortain which held for him all that was fair and sweet and noble; that pure and faithful heart wherein no evil could exist; that radiant body in whose soft, white loveliness lay all the joy, all the happiness the wide world might ever yield him.
And now, because of her proved innocence, he was uplifted by a great and mighty joy, and therewith his step was light and swift; anon, because of his base doubt of her, he writhed 'neath the sharp-gnawing tooth of bitter remorse, and therewith his step grew heavy and slow. Now was he proud of her so great love for him, and again, he knew a profound and deep humility because of his so great unworthiness. Thus went he, nothing speaking, now with flying feet, now with steps that dragged, insomuch that watchful Roger fell to solemn wonderment, to a furtive unease, and so, at last, to speech.
"Lord," quoth he in a voice of awe, but Beltane strode on unheeding, whereat Roger's eyes grew round and his ruddy cheek pale, and clenching his fist, he raised aloft his first and little fingers so that they formed two horns, and with the horns he touched Beltane lightly on the shoulder. "Master!" said he.
Then Beltane started, and turning, looked at Roger, whereupon Roger immediately crossed his fingers.
"Ha, Roger, I was deep in my thoughts, what would ye?"
"Master, hast ever a pricking in the hairs of thy head?"
"Not I."
"Dost ever feel a tingling in the soles of thy feet?"
"Not so, in truth."
"Why then a shivering, quaking o' the back-bone?"
"Roger, man, what troubles thee now?"
"I do fear thou'rt be-devilled and moon-struck, master!"
"Why so?"
"Betimes thou dost smile upon the moon--for no reason; scowl upon the earth--for no reason; work with thy lips yet speak no word, and therewith do bite thy fingers-ends, clench thy fists--and all for no reason. Moreover, thou'rt quick and slow in thy gait, sighing gustily off and on--so it is I do sweat for thee."
"And wherefore?"
"Master," quoth Roger, glancing furtively about, "in my youth I did see a goodly man be-devilled by horrid spells by an ancient hag that was a noted witch, and he acted thus--a poor wight that was thereafter damnably be-devilled into a small, black rabbit, see you--"
"Saw you all this indeed, Roger?"
"All but the be-devilling, master, for being young and sore frighted I ran away and hid myself. But afterwards saw I the old woman with the black rabbit in a cage--wherefore the vile hag was stoned to death, and the black rabbit, that was her familiar, also--and very properly. And, lord, because I do love thee, rather would I see thee dead than a rabbit or a toad or lewd cur--wherefore now I pray thee cross thy fingers and repeat after me--"