a halt.  Wishing to make no longer pause than was needful to put the sick man in safety, he despatched a few soldiers through the silent town to seek for means of conveying Basil up to the monastery on the height.  By good luck these emissaries came upon a couple of monks, who lost no time in arranging for the conveyance of the sufferer.  A light cart drawn by two mules speedily appeared, and on this Basil was laid.  One only of his men did Venantius allow to accompany him, the others were bidden ride on with the captain’s own soldiers to Aesernia.

‘There you will find us all when you are on your legs again,’ said Venantius, ’unless by that time we have marched Romewards, in which case you shall have a message.  Trust me to look after all you left there; I answer for its safety and for that of your good fellows.  Keep up heart, and God make you sound.’

Basil, couched on a bed of dry leaves, raised himself so as to watch the troop as it rode forth again from the ruined gate.  Whether she who sat hidden within the carriage had heard of his evil plight he knew not, and could not have brought himself to ask.  The last of his own horsemen (some of whom had taken leave of him with tears) having vanished from sight, he fell back, and for a while knew nothing but the burning torment in his brain.

The ascent of the mountain began.  It was a rough, narrow road, winding through a thick forest of oak and beech trees, here and there so steep as to try the firm footing of the mules, and in places dangerous because of broken ground on the edge of precipitous declivities.  The cart was driven by its owner, a peasant of Casinum, who at times sat sideways on one of the beasts, at times walked by them; behind came the two religious men, cowled, bare-footed; and last Basil’s attendant on horseback.

From Venantius the monks had learned who their charge was.  His noble origin, and still more the fact of his kindred with their beloved Abbot Benedict, inspired in them a special interest.  They spoke of him in whispers together, compassionated his sufferings, remarked on the comeliness of his features, and assured each other that they detected in him no symptom of the plague.  It being now the third hour, they ceased from worldly talk and together recited their office, whereto the peasant and the horseman gave pious ear.

Basil lay with closed eyes, but at a certain moment he seemed to become aware of what was passing, crossed himself, and then folded his hands upon his breast in the attitude of prayer.  Having observed this, one of the monks, his orisons finished, went up to the cart and spoke comfortable words.  He was a man in the prime of life, with cheek as fresh as a maid’s, and a step that seemed incapable of weariness; his voice sounded a note of gentle kindness which caused the sufferer to smile at him in gratitude.

‘This tree,’ he said presently, pointing to a noble beech, its bole engraven with a cross, ’marks the middle point of the ascent.  A weary climb for the weak, but not without profit to him who thinks as he walks—­for, as our dear brother Marcus has said, in those verses we are never tired of repeating:—­