CHAPTER II - THE LOVE OF PRIOR STEPHENBROTHER BERNARD, THE Precentor, dealt out gold, paint and vellum with generous hand to his favourite pupil, and wondered at his downcast look.
“Methinks this gold is dull, Brother,” said Hilarius one day, fretfully, to his old master.
And again—
“’Tis very poor vermilion.”
The Brother looked at him enquiry.
“Nay, nay, boy; ’tis thine eyes at fault; naught ails the colours.”
Later, the Precentor came to look at the delicate border Hilarius was setting to the page of the Nativity of Our Lady.
“Now may God be good to us!” he cried with uplifted hands. “Since when did man paint the Blessed Mother with grey eyes and black hair—curly too, i’ faith?”
Hilarius crimsoned, he was weary of limning ever with blue and gold, he faltered.
It was the same in
