ly. Patience was standing before me.

I was so angry at having been surprised in such a fit of extravagance
that, from a remnant of the Hamstringer instinct, I immediately felt
for a knife in my belt; but neither belt nor knife was there. My silk
waistcoat with its pocket reminded me that I was doomed to cut no more
throats. Patience smiled.

"Well, well! What is the matter?" said the anchorite, in a calm and
kindly tone. "Do you imagine that I don't know perfectly well how things
stand? I am not so simple but that I can reason; I am not so old but
that I can see. Who is it that makes the branches of my yew shake
whenever the holy maiden is sitting at my door? Who is it that follows
us like a young wolf with measured steps through the copse when I take
the lovely child to her father? And what harm is there in it? You are
both young; you are both handsome; you are of the same family; and, if
you chose, you might become a noble and honest man as she is a noble and
honest girl."

All my wrath had vanished as I listened to Patience speaking of Edmee.
I had such a vast longing to talk about her that I would even have
been willing to have heard evil spoken of her, for the sole pleasure
of hearing her name pronounced. I continued my walk by the side of
Patience. The old man was tramping through the dew with bare feet. It
should be mentioned, however, that his feet had long been unacquainted
with any covering and had attained a degree of callosity that rendered
them proof against anything. His only garments were a pair of blue
canvas breeches which, in the absence of braces, hung loosely from his
hips, and a coarse shirt. He could not endure any constraint in his
clothes; and his skin, hardened by exposure, was sensitive to neither
heat nor cold. Even when over eighty he was accustomed to go bareheaded
in the broiling sun and with half-open shirt in the winter blasts.
Since Edmee had seen to his wants he had attained a certain cleanliness.
Nevertheless, in the disorder of his toilet and his hatred of everything
that passed the bounds of the strictest necessity (though he could not
have been charged with immodesty, which had always been odious to him),
the cynic of the old days was still apparent. His beard was shining like
silver. His bald skull was so polished that the moon was reflected in
it as in water. He walked slowly, with his hands behind his back and his
head raised, like a man who is surveying his empire. But most f