Still more than three years rolled by before Louis fulfilled the engagement which he had thus entered into, with himself alone, one might say, and against the wish of nearly everybody about him.  The crusades, although they still remained an object of religious and knightly aspiration, were from the political point of view decried; and, without daring to say so, many men of weight, lay or ecclesiastical, had no desire to take part in them.  Under the influence of this public feeling, timidly exhibited but seriously cherished, Louis continued, for three years, to apply himself to the interior concerns of his kingdom and to his relations with the European powers, as if he had no other idea.  There was a moment when his wisest counsellors and the queen his mother conceived a hope of inducing him to give up his purpose.  “My lord king,” said one day that same Bishop of Paris, who, in the crisis of his illness, had given way to his wishes, “bethink you that, when you received the cross, when you suddenly and without reflection made this awful vow, you were weak, and, sooth to say, of a wandering mind, and that took away from your words the weight of verity and authority.  Our lord the pope, who knoweth the necessities of your kingdom and your weakness of body, will gladly grant unto you a dispensation.  Lo! we have the puissance of the schismatic Emperor Frederick, the snares of the wealthy King of the English, the treasons but lately stopped of the Poitevines, and the subtle wranglings of the Albigensians to fear; Germany is disturbed; Italy hath no rest; the Holy Land is hard of access; you will not easily penetrate thither, and behind you will be left the implacable hatred between the pope and Frederick.  To whom will you leave us, every one of us, in our feebleness and desolation?  “Queen Blanche appealed to other considerations, the good counsels she had always given her son, and the pleasure God took in seeing a son giving heed to and believing his mother; and to hers she promised, that, if he would remain, the Holy Land should not suffer, and that more troops should be sent thither than he could lead thither himself.  The king listened attentively and with deep emotion.  You say,” he answered, “that I was not in possession of my senses when I took the cross.  Well, as you wish it, I lay it aside; I give it back to you;” and raising his hand to his shoulder, he undid the cross upon it, saying, “Here it is, my lord bishop; I restore to you the cross I had put on.”  All present congratulated themselves; but the king, with a sudden change of look and intention, said to them, “My friends, now, assuredly, I lack not sense and reason; I am neither weak nor wandering of mind; and I demand my cross back again.  He who knoweth all things knoweth that until it is replaced upon my shoulder, no food shall enter my lips.”  At these words all present declared that “herein was the finger of God, and none dared to raise, in opposition to the king’s saying, any objection.”