The Cloister and the Hearth by Charles Reade (most interesting books to read .TXT) 📕

rude and clumsy as a vine-press, A jaded mule was harnessed to the cart.

And so Clement stood face to face with his old enemy.

And as he eyed it, and the honest, blue-eyed faces of the wearied craftsmen, he looked back as on a dream at the bitterness he had once felt towards this machine. He looked kindly down on them, and said softly—

“Sweynheim!”

The men started to their feet.

“Pannartz!”

They scuttled into the wood, and were seen no more.

Clement was amazed, and stood puzzling himself.

Presently a face peeped from behind a tree.

Clement addressed it, “What fear ye?”

A quavering voice replied—

“Say, rather, by what magic you, a stranger, can call us by our names! I never clapt eyes on you till now.”

“O, superstition! I know ye, as all good workmen are known—by your works. Come hither and I will tell ye.”

They advanced gingerly from different sides; each regulating his advance by the other's.

“My children,” said Clement, “I saw a Lactantius in Rome, printed by Sweynheim and Pannartz, disciples of Fust.”

“D'ye hear that, Pannartz? our work has gotten to Rome already.”

“By your blue eyes and flaxen hair I wist ye were Germans; and the printing-press spoke for itself. Who then should ye be but Fust's disciples, Pannartz and Sweynheim?”

The honest Germans were now astonished that they had suspected magic in so simple a matter.

“The good father hath his wits about him, that is all,” said Pannartz.

“Ay,” said Sweynheim, “and with those wits would he could tell us how to get this tired beast to the next town.”

“Yea,” said Sweynheim, “and where to find money to pay for his meat and ours when we get there.”

“I will try,” said Clement. “Free the mule of the cart, and of all harness but the bare halter.”

This was done, and the animal immediately lay down and rolled on his back in the dust like a kitten. Whilst he was thus employed, Clement assured them he would rise up a new mule.

“His Creator hath taught him this art to refresh himself, which the nobler horse knoweth not. Now, with regard to money, know that a worthy Englishman hath entrusted me with a certain sum to bestow in charity. To whom can I better give a stranger's money than to strangers? Take it, then, and be kind to some Englishman or other stranger in his need; and may all nations learn to love one another one day.”

The tears stood in the honest workmen's eyes. They took the money with heartfelt thanks.

“It is your nation we are bound to thank and bless, good father, if we but knew it.”

“My nation is the Church.”

Clement was then for bidding them farewell, but the honest fellows implored him to wait a little; they had no silver nor gold, but they had something they could give their benefactor, They took the press out of the cart, and while Clement fed the mule, they hustled about, now on the white hot road, now in the deep cool shade, now half in and half out, and presently printed a quarto sheet of eight pages, which was already set up. They had not type enough to print two sheets at a time. When, after the slower preliminaries, the printed sheet was pulled all in a moment, Clement was amazed in turn.

“What, are all these words really fast upon the paper?” said he. “Is it verily certain they will not go as swiftly as they came? And you took me for a magician! 'Tis 'Augustine de civitate Dei.' My sons, you carry here the very wings of knowledge. Oh, never abuse this great craft! Print no ill books! They would fly abroad countless as locusts, and lay waste men's souls.”

The workmen said they would sooner put their hands under the screw than so abuse their goodly craft.

And so they parted.

There is nothing but meeting and parting in this world.

At a town in Tuscany the holy friar had a sudden and strange recontre with the past. He fell in with one of those motley assemblages of patricians and plebeians, piety and profligacy, “a company of pilgrims;” a subject too well painted by others for me to go and daub.

They were in an immense barn belonging to the inn, Clement, dusty and wearied, and no lover of idle gossip, sat in a corner studying the Englishman's hours, and making them out as much by his own Dutch as by the Latin version.

Presently a servant brought a bucket half full of water, and put it down at his feet. A female servant followed with two towels. And then a woman came forward, and crossing herself, kneeled down without a word at the bucket-side, removed her sleeves entirely, and motioned to him to put his feet into the water. It was some lady of rank doing penance. She wore a mask scarce an inch broad, but effectual. Moreover, she handled the friar's feet more delicately than those do who are born to such offices.

These penances were not uncommon; and Clement, though he had little faith in this form of contrition, received the services of the incognita as a matter of course. But presently she sighed deeply, and with her heartfelt sigh and her head bent low over her menial office, she seemed so bowed with penitence, that he pitied her, and said calmly but gently, “Can I aught for your soul's weal, my daughter?”

She shook her head with a faint sob. “Nought, holy father, nought; only to hear the sin of her who is most unworthy to touch thy holy feet. 'Tis part of my penance to tell sinless men how vile I am.”

“Speak, my daughter.”

“Father,” said the lady, bending lower and lower, “these hands of mine look white, but they are stained with blood—the blood of the man I loved. Alas! you withdraw your foot. Ah me! What shall I do? All holy things shrink from me.”

“Culpa mea! culpa mea!” said Clement eagerly. “My daughter, it was an unworthy movement of earthly weakness, for which I shall do penance. Judge not the Church by her feebler servants, Not her foot, but her bosom, is offered to thee, repenting truly. Take courage, then, and purge thy conscience of its load.”

On this the lady, in a trembling whisper, and hurriedly, and cringing a little, as if she feared the Church would strike her bodily for what she had done, made this confession.

“He was a stranger, and base-born, but beautiful as Spring, and wise beyond his years. I loved him, I had not the prudence to conceal my