ll thing, and which in very
truth is now thine. But thou canst speak to Father Paul of all that. The
Church will give thee holy counsel. Methinks that gold in thy hands
would ever be used so as to bring with it a blessing and not a curse.

"But come now with me to the Prince. He greatly desires to see thee
again. He has not forgot thee, brother mine, nor that exploit of thine
at the surrender of Calais."

Father Paul was not at that time within the Monastery walls, his duties
calling him hither and thither, sometimes in one land and sometimes in
another. Raymond had enjoyed a peaceful time of rest and mental
refreshment with the good monks, but he was more than ready to go forth
into the world again. Quiet and study were congenial to him, but the
life of a monk was not to his taste. He saw clearly the evils to which
such a calling was exposed, and how easy it was to forget the high
ideal, and fall into self indulgence, idleness, and sloth.

Not that the abuses which in the end caused the monastic system to fall
into such contempt were at that time greatly developed; but the germs of
the evil were there, and it needed a nature such as that of Father Paul
and men of his stamp to show how noble the life of devotion could be
made. Ordinary men fell into a routine existence, and were in danger of
letting their duties and even their devotions become purely mechanical.

Raymond said adieu to his hospitable entertainers with some natural
regrets, yet with a sense that there was a wider work for him to do in
the world than any he should ever find between Monastery walls. Even
apart from all thoughts of love and marriage, there was attraction for
him in the world of chivalry and warfare. His ambition took a different
form from that of the average youth of the day, but none the less for
that did it act upon him like a spur, driving him forth where strife and
conflict were being waged, and where hard blows were to be struck.

Gaston's brother was warmly welcomed in the camp of the Prince. Many
there were who remembered the dreamy-faced lad, who had seemed like a
young Saint Michael amongst them, and still bore about with him
something of that air of remoteness which was never without its effect
even upon the rudest of his companions. Indeed the ordeal through which
he had passed had left an indelible stamp upon him. If the face looked
older than of yore, it was not that the depth and spirituality of the
expression had in any wi