ure a man's reason off its
seat and leave him a dreaming dolt."

Like a new lease of life it came to him when the last of the April
days brought the long-delayed summons to the King. The old cniht, who
considered that a command to military service could be justified only by
imminent national destruction, was deeply incensed when he learned that
the call was to no more than an officership in the new body of Royal
Guards, but the young lord checked him with even a touch of impatience.

"What a throng of many words, my friend Morcard, have you spoken! Did
you learn naught from the palisade that gave way because churls paid me
their service when and how they would?" he demanded. "Now let me inform
you that I have got that lesson by heart, and hereafter no king shall
have that trouble about me. At sunrise, I ride back with the messenger."
And he maintained this view so firmly that his face was rather stern
as he spent the night settling matters of ploughing and planting and
pasturage with the indignant old servitor.

But the next morning, after he had set forth and found how every mile
lengthening behind him lightened the burden of his depression, a kind of
joy rose phoenix-like out of the gray ashes of duty.

"If I had continued there, I should have become feeble in mind," he
said. "Now, since I have got out of that tomb that she haunts, it may
be that I can follow my art more lustily." And suddenly his sternness
melted into a great warmth, toward the strapping soldier riding beside
him, toward the pannier-laden venders swinging along in their tireless
dog-trot, even toward the beggar that hobbled out of the ditch to waylay
him. "To live out in the world, where you are pulled into others' lives
whether you will or no, is the best thing to teach people to forget,"
he said. "Solitude has comfort only for those who have no sorrows, for
Solitude is the mother of remembrance."

He got genuine enjoyment out of the hour that he was obliged to sit in
the ante-room, waiting to be admitted to the King. On one side of him,
a group was discussing a Danish rebellion that seemed to be somewhere in
progress; on the other, men were speculating on the chances of a Norman
invasion,--news of keenest interest was flying thick as bees in June;
and the coming and going of the red-cloaked warriors, the occasional
passing of some great noble through the throng, stimulated him like
wine.

"Praise to the Saint who has brought me into a life wh