Then I had thoughts of seeking sanctuary in some monastery, of offering
myself as a lay-brother, to do menial work, and in this way perhaps I might
find peace, and, in a lesser degree than was originally intended, the
comforts of the religion to which I had been so grossly unfaithful. The
thought grew and developed into a resolve. It brought me some comfort. It
became a desire.
I pushed on, following the river along ground that grew swiftly steeper,
conscious that perforce my journey must end soon, for my mule was showing
signs of weariness.
Some three miles farther, having by then penetrated the green rampart of
the foothills, I came upon the little village of Pojetta. It is a village
composed of a single street throwing out as its branches a few narrow
alleys, possessing a dingy church and a dingier tavern; this last had for
only sign a bunch of withered rosemary that hung above its grimy doors.
I drew rein there as utterly weary as my mule, hungry and thirsty and weak.
I got down and invited the suspicious scrutiny of the lantern-jawed
taverner, who, for all that my appearance was humble enough in such
garments as I wore, must have accounted me none the less of too fine an air
for such a house as his.
"Care for my beast," I bade him. "I shall stay here an hour or two.
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