The monk, overjoyed, expressed his gratitude to the King, and promised him the love and guardianship of Saint Bruno in heaven.

Just then, service in the chapel was over, and the monks filed past two and two, never raising their eyes from the gloomy pavement bestrewn with tombstones.  The prior, clapping his hands, signalled them to stop, and then addressed them: 

“My brethren, stay your progress a moment; lift up your heads, bowed down by penance, and behold with awe the descendant of Saint Louis, the august protector of this convent.  Yes, our noble sovereign himself has momentarily quitted his palace to visit this humble abode.  On these quiet walls which hide our cells, he has sought to read the simple, touching story, of the life of our saintly founder.  The august son of Louis the Just has taken our dwelling-place and community under his immediate protection.  Go to your cells and pray to God for this magnanimous prince, for his children and successors in perpetuity.”

As he said these flattering words, a monk, with flushed cheeks and mouth agape, flung himself down at the King’s feet, beating his brow repeatedly upon the pavement, and exclaiming: 

“Sire, forgive me, forgive me, guilty though I be.  I crave your royal pardon and pity.”

The prior, somewhat confused, saw that some important confession was about to be made, so he dismissed the others, and sent them back to their devotions.  The prostrate monk, however, never thought of moving from his position.  Perceiving that he was alone with the King, whose calm, gentle demeanour emboldened him, he begged anew for pardon with great energy, and fervour.  The King clearly saw that the penitent was some great evil-doer, and he promised forgiveness in somewhat ambiguous fashion.  Then the monk rose and said: 

“Your Majesty reigns to-day, and reigns gloriously.  That is an amazing miracle, for countless incredible dangers of the direst sort have beset your cradle and menaced your youth.  A prince of your house, backed up by ambitious inferiors, resolved to wrest the crown from you, in order to get it for himself and his descendants.  The Queen, your mother, full of heroic resolution, herself had energy enough to resist the cabal; but more than once her feet touched the very brink of the precipice, and more than once she nearly fell over it with her children.

“Noble qualities did this great Queen possess, but at times she had too overweening a contempt for her enemies.  Her disdain for my master, the young Cardinal, was once too bitter, and begot in this presumptuous prelate’s heart undying hatred.  Educated under the same roof as M. le Cardinal, with the same teachers and the same doctrines, I saw, as it were, with his eyes when I went out into the world, and marched beneath his banner when civil war broke out.