“My son, the plague is the scourge of God.  It is not confined to one land or another.  It visits all alike, if it be God’s will to send it in punishment for the many and grievous sins of its inhabitants.  True, in the lands of the East, where the paynim holds his court, and everywhere is blasphemy and abomination, the scourge returns time after time, and never altogether ceases from amongst the blinded people.  But of late it has spread farther and farther westward —­ nearer and nearer to our own shores.  God is looking down upon the lands whose people call themselves after His name, and what does he see there but corruption in high places, greed, lust, the covetousness that is idolatry, the slothful ease that is the curse of the Church?”

The monk’s eyes flashed beneath their heavily-fringed lids; the fire that glowed in them was of a strange and sombre kind.  Raymond turned his pure young face, full of passionate admiration and reverence, towards the fine but terribly stern countenance of the ecclesiastic.  A painter would have given much to have caught the expression upon those two faces at that moment.  The group was a very striking one, outlined against the luminous saffron of the western sky behind.

“Father, tell me more!” pleaded Raymond.  “I am so young, so ignorant; and many of the things the world praises and calls deeds of good turn my heart sick and my spirit faint within me.  I would fain know how I may safely tread the difficult path of life.  I would fain choose the good and leave the evil.  But there be times when I know not how to act, when it seems as though naught in this world were wholly pure.  Is it only those who yield themselves up to the life of the cloister who may choose aright and see with open eyes?  Must I give up my sword and turn monk ere I may call myself a son of Heaven?”

The boy’s eyes were full of an eager, questioning light.  His hands were clasped together, and his face was turned full upon his companion.  The Father’s eyes rested on the pure, ethereal face with a softer look than they had worn before, and then a deep sadness came into them.

“My son,” he answered, very gravely, “I am about to say a thing to thee which I would not say to many young and untried as thou art.  There have been times in my life when I should have triumphed openly had men spoken to me the words that I shall speak to thee —­ times when I had gladly said that all which men call holiness was but a mask for corruption and deceit, and should have rejoiced that the very monks themselves were forced to own to their own wanton disregard of their vows.  My son, I see the shrinking and astonishment in thine eyes; but yet I would for a moment that thou couldst see with mine.  I spoke awhile ago of the judgment of an angry God.  Wherefore, thinkest thou, is it that His anger is so hotly burning against those lands that call themselves by His name —­ that call day by day upon His name, and make their boast that they hold the faith whole and undefiled?”