ns, rose the distant mountain peaks crowned with snow.

Lull passed quietly through the arch of the city gateway which he knew
so well, for among other adventures he had once been imprisoned in
this very city. He climbed the steep street and found a friend who hid
him away. There for a year Lull taught in secret till he felt that the
time had come for him to go out boldly and dare death itself.

One day the people in the market-place of Bugia heard a voice ring out
that seemed to some of them strangely familiar. They hurried toward
the sound. There stood the old hero with arm uplifted declaring, in
the full blaze of the North African day, the Love of God shown in
Jesus Christ His Son.

The Saracens murmured. They could not answer his arguments. They cried
to him to stop, but his voice rose ever fuller and bolder. They rushed
on him, dragged him by the cloak out of the market-place, down the
streets, under the archway to a place beyond the city walls. There
they threw back their sleeves, took up great jagged stones and hurled
these grim messengers of hate at the Apostle of Love, till he sank
senseless to the ground.[9]

It was word for word over again the story of Stephen; the speech, the
wild cries of the mob, the rush to the place beyond the city wall, the
stoning.[10]

Did Lull accomplish anything? He was dead; but he had conquered. He
had conquered his old self. For the Lull who had, in a fit of temper,
smitten his Saracen slave now smiled on the men who stoned him; and
the Lull who had showed the white feather of fear at Genoa, now defied
death in the market-place of Bugia. And in that love and heroism, in
face of hate and death, he had shown men the only way to conquer
the scimitar of Mohammed, "the way in which Christ and His Apostles
achieved it, namely, by love and prayers, and the pouring out of tears
and blood."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 9: June 30. 1315.]

[Footnote 10: Acts vi. 8-vii. 60.]

CHAPTER IV

FRANCIS COEUR-DE-LION

(_St. Francis of Assisi_) A.D. 1181-1226 (Date of Incident, 1219)

I

The dark blue sky of an Italian night was studded with sparkling stars
that seemed to be twinkling with laughter at the pranks of a lively
group of gay young fellows as they came out from a house half-way up
the steep street of the little city of Assisi.

As they strayed together down the street they sang the love-songs of
their country and then a rich, strong voice rang out singing a song in
F