CHAPTER XII
THE PRICE OF A GODDESS
Stomach is and ever has been a mighty factor in the affairs ofmankind: the proud and lowly, the fool and sage, all alike are slavesto its imperious dictates. Let it go empty, and it is a curse,breeding cowardice, gloomy suspicions, unreasonableness, angers and athousand evils and dissensions; fill it and it is a comfort, promotinggood-fellowship, kindliness and abounding virtue. Hence, instead ofsaying of a man--"He has a good heart"--should not the dictum berather--"He is the happy possessor of an excellent stomach regularlyand adequately filled?" For truly how many actions, evil and good, maybe directly traced to the influence of this most important organ!Thus, to your true Philosopher, "the Stomach is the thing," and solong as his own be comfortable he may philosophise with stoicalfortitude upon other people's woes (and occasionally his own) more orless agreeably; but starve him and our Philosopher will grieve forhimself as miserably as I--or even you. The Tooth of Remorse may besharp but the Fangs of Hunger bite deeper still, and who shall cherishbeauty in his soul or who find patience to rhapsodise on a sunset whenhis stomach is empty as a drum? Thus, alas, Soul goes shackled by, andIntellect is the slave of, Stomach!
All of the which foregoing points to the fact that the steak andkidney pudding had been excellent, even as my benefactor had said;wherefore, drowsing in somnolent content, I sat amid leaves beside aprattling rill musing comfortably as a well-fed young philosopher may,when these reflections were banished in sudden alarm, for upon thedrowsy afternoon stillness rose a stir of leaves, a snapping of twigs,the sounds of one who burst through all obstacles in desperate flight.Starting to an elbow I gazed wildly about and thus espied a girl who,breaking through the bushes that crowned the bank above, came boundingdown the steep. At sight of me she checked her wild career and turnedto stare back whence she had come, catching her breath in great,sobbing gasps very distressing to hear.
I remember the round, full column of her throat as she stood thus, herlong, night-black hair a troubled torrent stirring in the gentle wind.Then she swung about to face me, one hand upon her quick-moving bosom,the other grasping a small, evil-looking knife.
"Young man," she panted, "young man--help me--!"
As she uttered the words, two men appeared on the bank above us, tall,dark-complexioned fellows who scowled down on me in manner I foundexceedingly disturbing. "Oh, young man," cried the girl, flourishingher knife and frowning up at her pursuers, "young man, if you've anymanhood in ye--stand up and help me!"
And now the two men began to descend into the little dell with acertain deliberation very discomforting to witness, and I arose,greatly at a loss and looking from one to other of them in growingapprehension.
"Young man," demanded the girl in scornful undertones, "why do yetremble?"
At this moment (and to my inexpressible relief) from the leafy tanglesadjacent rose a voice, shrill and imperious:
"Jochabed--Bennigo!"
The men halted and, following their gaze, I beheld a woman, ancientand bowed with years yet apparently wonderfully active none the less,a strange, wrinkled old creature extremely neat of person, with keen,bright eyes and a portentous chin. Having descended the bank, shestood leaning on the staff she carried, her quick glance darting fromthe men to the girl, and the girl to me, many times over.
"Oho--aha!" she ejaculated at last. "Scant o' breath be I, tur'blescant, being s' very old--aha--but age be wise!"
And now she turned to address the woman, though in language quitebeyond my comprehension, stabbing her staff at us all four in turn.
"No, gammer--no!" cried the girl passionately, but at the ancientwoman's commanding gesture she fell mute, though she scowled in sullendefiance and I saw the knife glitter where she gripped it, halfconcealed by a fold of her petticoat. Here one of the men mutteredsome unintelligible word and pointed scornfully at me, whereupon theold woman rapped him smartly over the knuckles and fixed heruncomfortably shrewd gaze on my person, scanning me over very keenly,more especially my face and hands.
"Well, my pretty young gorgio," said she, "there be horses a-sweatingalong o' you, eyes a-looking and hearts a-grieving all along o'you--though you ain't much to look at--so--I guess you be better thanye look. Now here be a maid--a regular dimber-damber dell as lookethbetter than she be, for her's a gnashing, tearing shrew wi' nokindness in her. But she be handsome--as ye may see--and courted bymany, whereby hath been overmuch ill-feeling, fighting and bloodshedamong our young men--so wed this day she shall be for peace andquiet's sake! Him as can show most o' the pretty gold taketh her forgood, and all according to our laws and ways."
Scarcely had she done speaking than the two young fellows hastened tocount over to her such monies as they possessed, while the girlwatched sullen and defiant.
"Aie--aie!" quoth the old woman suddenly. "Bennigo, you have but threeto Jochabed's eight, so Jochabed taketh her--unless the nice, kind,young gorgio will give more--the fine young gorgio as my wisdomtelleth me is other than he do seem--aha! What of it, youngmaster--aie--aie?"
"Young man," whispered the girl, grasping my arm in strong, compellingfingers and staring at me with eyes big and desperate, "young man, ifyou would not see bloody work--turn out your pockets!"
Moved by her wild looks, I obeyed almost involuntarily, but hardly wasmy purse out of my pocket than she snatched and tossed it to the oldwoman.
"Count, grannam, count!" she cried imperiously, "and if't is notenough I've my little _churi_ for the first as dare touch me!"
The old woman opened my purse, told over its contents verydeliberately, nodded and, thrusting it into her bosom, spoke with thefierce-eyed men in her strange dialect, tapped each with her staff andmotioned them to be gone; hereupon, and to my unutterable wonder, theyobeyed her and slunk off without a word.
"Fourteen guineas!" said she. "Fourteen guineas be more thaneight--fourteen guineas, a florin, one groat and three pennies! Aha,'t is more than she be worth, I think, by reason of her shrewishtongue and unkindly ways, and if only a _hindity mengro_ and no true_Camlo_ yet she be's a _rinkinni fakement_ to look at, butthen a bargain is a bargain--an' I wishes ye j'y o' her, my youngrye!" Which said, she reached out her staff and touched first me andthen the girl lightly on head and breast, muttering a farrago ofstrange words while her bright glance flashed from one to other of us;then she turned and, bowed upon her staff, climbed the ferny steepnimble and sure-footed despite her years and left us staring afterher, the girl frowning and sullen as ever, I full of chagrinedsurprise and a growing uneasiness.
Peregrine's Progress Page 14