THE PRICE OF A GODDESS
Stomach is and ever has been a mighty factor in the affairs of
mankind: the proud and lowly, the fool and sage, all alike are slaves
to its imperious dictates. Let it go empty, and it is a curse,
breeding cowardice, gloomy suspicions, unreasonableness, angers and a
thousand evils and dissensions; fill it and it is a comfort, promoting
good-fellowship, kindliness and abounding virtue. Hence, instead of
saying of a man--"He has a good heart"--should not the dictum be
rather--"He is the happy possessor of an excellent stomach regularly
and adequately filled?" For truly how many actions, evil and good, may
be directly traced to the influence of this most important organ!
Thus, to your true Philosopher, "the Stomach is the thing," and so
long as his own be comfortable he may philosophise with stoical
fortitude upon other people's woes (and occasionally his own) more or
less agreeably; but starve him and our Philosopher will grieve for
himself as miserably as I--or even you. The Tooth of Remorse may be
sharp but the Fangs of Hunger bite deeper still, and who shall cherish
beauty in his soul or who find patience to rhapsodise on a sunset when
his stomach is empty as a drum? Thus, alas, Soul goes shackled by, and
Intellect is the slave of, Stomach!
All of the which foregoing points to the fact that the steak and
kidney pudding had been excellent, even as my benefactor had said;
wherefore, drowsing in somnolent content, I sat amid leaves beside a
prattling rill musing comfortably as a well-fed young philosopher may,
when these reflections were banished in sudden alarm, for upon the
drowsy 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 bounding
down the steep. At sight of me she checked her wild career and turned
to 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, her
long, 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 found
exceedingly disturbing. "Oh, young man," cried the girl, flourishing
her knife and frowning up at her pursuers, "young man, if you've any
manhood in ye--stand up and help me!"
And now the two men began to descend into the little dell with a
certain deliberation very discomforting to witness, and I arose,
greatly at a loss and looking from one to other of them in growing
apprehension.
"Young man," demanded the girl in scornful undertones, "why do ye
tremble?"
At this moment (and to my inexpressible relief) from the leafy tangles
adjacent rose a voice, shrill and imperious:
"Jochabed--Bennigo!"
The men halted and, following their gaze, I beheld a woman, ancient
and 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, she
stood leaning on the staff she carried, her quick glance darting from
the men to the girl, and the girl to me, many times over.
"Oho--aha!" she ejaculated at last. "Scant o' breath be I, tur'ble
scant, being s' very old--aha--but age be wise!"
And now she turned to address the woman, though in language quite
beyond my comprehension, stabbing her staff at us all four in turn.
"No, gammer--no!" cried the girl passionately, but at the ancient
woman's commanding gesture she fell mute, though she scowled in sullen
defiance and I saw the knife glitter where she gripped it, half
concealed by a fold of her petticoat. Here one of the men muttered
some unintelligible word and pointed scornfully at me, whereupon the
old woman rapped him smartly over the knuckles and fixed her
uncomfortably 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-sweating
along 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 than
ye look. Now here be a maid--a regular dimber-damber dell as looketh
better than she be, for her's a gnashing, tearing shrew wi' no
kindness in her. But she be handsome--as ye may see--and courted by
many, whereby hath been overmuch ill-feeling, fighting and bloodshed
among our young men--so wed this day she shall be for peace and
quiet's sake! Him as can show most o' the pretty gold taketh her for
good, and all according to our laws and ways."
Scarcely had she done speaking than the two young fellows hastened to
count over to her such monies as they possessed, while the girl
watched sullen and defiant.
"Aie--aie!" quoth the old woman suddenly. "Bennigo, you have but three
to Jochabed's eight, so Jochabed taketh her--unless the nice, kind,
young gorgio will give more--the fine young gorgio as my wisdom
telleth me is other than he do seem--aha! What of it, young
master--aie--aie?"
"Young man," whispered the girl, grasping my arm in strong, compelling
fingers and staring at me with eyes big and desperate, "young man, if
you would not see bloody work--turn out your pockets!"
Moved by her wild looks, I obeyed almost involuntarily, but hardly was
my purse out of my pocket than she snatched and tossed it to the old
woman.
"Count, grannam, count!" she cried imperiously, "and if't is not
enough I've my little _churi_ for the first as dare touch me!"
The old woman opened my purse, told over its contents very
deliberately, nodded and, thrusting it into her bosom, spoke with the
fierce-eyed men in her strange dialect, tapped each with her staff and
motioned them to be gone; hereupon, and to my unutterable wonder, they
obeyed her and slunk off without a word.
"Fourteen guineas!" said she. "Fourteen guineas be more than
eight--fourteen guineas, a florin, one groat and three pennies! Aha,
't is more than she be worth, I think, by reason of her shrewish
tongue and unkindly ways, and if only a _hindity mengro_ and no true
_Camlo_ yet she be's a _rinkinni fakement_ to look at, but
then a bargain is a bargain--an' I wishes ye j'y o' her, my young
rye!" Which said, she reached out her staff and touched first me and
then the girl lightly on head and breast, muttering a farrago of
strange words while her bright glance flashed from one to other of us;
then she turned and, bowed upon her staff, climbed the ferny steep
nimble and sure-footed despite her years and left us staring after
her, the girl frowning and sullen as ever, I full of chagrined
surprise and a growing uneasiness.