g
him see to the lodging of the men without.

The low-ceiled parlour of the priest, with its scanty plenishing and
rush-strewn floor, was well known to the boys; yet as Raymond stepped
across the threshold he uttered a cry of surprise, not at any change in
the aspect of the room itself, but at sight of a figure seated in a
high-backed chair, with the full sunlight shining upon the calm, thin
face. With an exclamation of joyful recognition the lad sped forward and
threw himself upon his knees before the erect figure, with the name of
Father Paul upon his lips.

The keen, austere face did not soften as Father Anselm's had done. The
Cistercian monk, true to the severity of his order, permitted nothing of
pleasure to appear in his face as he looked at the youth whose character
he had done so much to form. He did not even raise his hand at once in
the customary salutation or blessing, but fixed his eyes upon Raymond's
face, now lifted to his in questioning surprise; and not until he had
studied that face with great intentness for many long minutes did he lay
his hand upon the lad's head and say, in a low, deep voice, "Peace be
with thee, my son."

This second and most unexpected meeting was almost a greater pleasure to
Raymond than the one with Father Anselm. Whilst Gaston engrossed his old
friend's time and thought, sitting next him at the board, and pacing at
his side afterwards in the little garden in which he loved to spend his
leisure moments, Raymond remained seated at the feet of Father Paul,
listening with breathless interest to his history of the voyage he had
taken to the far East (as it then seemed), and to the strange and
terrible sights he had witnessed in some of those far-off lands.

Raymond had vaguely heard before of the plague, but had regarded it as a
scourge confined exclusively to the fervid heat of far-off countries --
a thing that would never come to the more temperate latitudes of the
north; but when he spoke these words to the monk, Father Paul shook his
head, and a sudden sombre light leaped into his eyes.

"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 th