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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The White Company"

We were all of one mind that it was best to have the
ten thousand with the curse; but in some way they prevailed upon
Sir John, so that we were blest and shriven against our will.
Perchance it is as well, for the Company were in need of it about
that time."
The pious Alleyne was deeply shocked by this reminiscence.
Involuntarily he glanced up and around to see if there were any
trace of those opportune levin-flashes and thunderbolts which, in
the "Acta Sanctorum," were wont so often to cut short the loose
talk of the scoffer. The autumn sun streamed down as brightly as
ever, and the peaceful red path still wound in front of them
through the rustling, yellow-tinted forest, Nature seemed to be
too busy with her own concerns to heed the dignity of an outraged
pontiff. Yet he felt a sense of weight and reproach within his
breast, as though he had sinned himself in giving ear to such
words. The teachings of twenty years cried out against such
license. It was not until he had thrown himself down before one
of the many wayside crosses, and had prayed from his heart both
for the archer and for himself, that the dark cloud rolled back
again from his spirit.


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