What
signifies counting the spots of dirt that we are about to wash
from our hands?"
"Knowing what thou art thyself," said Conrade, "it is blasphemous
to speak of pardoning another."
"That is not according to the canon, Lord Marquis," said the
Templar; "thou art more scrupulous than orthodox. The absolution
of the wicked priest is as effectual as if he were himself a
saint--otherwise, God help the poor penitent! What wounded man
inquires whether the surgeon that tends his gashes has clean
hands or no? Come, shall we to this toy?"
"No," said Conrade, "I will rather die unconfessed than mock the
sacrament."
"Come, noble Marquis," said the Templar, "rouse up your courage,
and speak not thus. In an hour's time thou shalt stand
victorious in the lists, or confess thee in thy helmet, like a
valiant knight."
"Alas, Grand Master," answered Conrade, "all augurs ill for this
affair, the strange discovery by the instinct of a dog--the
revival of this Scottish knight, who comes into the lists like a
spectre--all betokens evil.
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