that I was dead.  None knew that the troubadour whose love had cost the lady her life, who had slain the guest of her father, and had then disappeared, was the unhappy son of that guest.  My friends in Paris when they heard of the tragedy of course associated it with me, but they all kept silent.  The monks, to whom I confessed the whole story, were shocked indeed, but consoled me in my grief and despair by the assurance that however greatly I had sinned, the death of the lady had been accidental, and that if I were a parricide it was at least unintentionally.

“My repentance was deep and sincere; and after awhile, under another name, I joined the army of the Crusaders, to expiate my sin by warring for the holy sepulcher.  I fought as men fight who have no wish to live; but while all around me fell by sword and disease, death kept aloof from me.  When the Crusade had failed I determined to turn forever from the world, and to devote my life to prayer and penance; and so casting aside my armor I made my way here, and took up my abode in a cave in this valley, where at that time were many thousands of other hermits—­for the Saracens, while they gained much money from fines and exactions from pilgrims who came to Jerusalem, and fought stoutly against those who sought to capture that city, were in the main tolerant, and offered no hindrance to the community of men whom they looked upon as mad.

“Here, my son, for more than sixty years have I prayed, with much fasting and penance.  I trust now that the end is nearly at hand, and that my long life of mortification may be deemed to have obliterated the evil deeds which I did in my youth.  Let my fate be a warning to you.  Walk steadily in the right way; indulge not in feasting and evil companionship; and above all, do not enter upon evil deeds, the end of which no man can see.”

The hermit was silent, and Cuthbert, seeing that his thoughts had again referred to the past, wandered away, and left him sitting by the river side.  Some hours later he returned and found the hermit kneeling before the altar; and the next morning the latter said: 

“I presume, my son, you do not wish to remain here as a hermit, as I have done?  Methinks it were well that we made our arrangements for your return to the Christian host, who will, I hope, ere long be at the gates of Jerusalem.”

“I should like nothing better,” Cuthbert said.  “But ignorant as I am of the nature of the country, it seems to be nigh impossible to penetrate through the hosts of the Saracens to reach the camp of King Richard.”

“The matter is difficult and not without danger,” the hermit said.  “As to the nature of the country, I myself know but little, for my dealings with the natives have been few and simple.  There are, however, several Christian communities dwelling among the heathen.  They are poor, and are forced to live in little-frequented localities.  Their Christianity may be suspected by their neighbors,