not God nor man."

"But the monks, brother, are they not safe? The worst pirates ofttimes
fear to touch holy men and holy places," I interposed.

"The monks of St Brieuc," he said solemnly and sadly, "holy men and
servants of the poor, lie cold and still in their dormitories, brother
by brother, saint by saint. And the sun looks in on them and sees their
faces agonized in death, and the blind eyes staring with horror at the
fate that woke them but for death. In such wise the Sarrasin's devils
fear holy men and holy places."

I saw Brother Hugo as he looked far out to sea in his turn dash the
drops of salt from his eyes, and strive to master his sorrow.

"Should they come our way?" I asked, in bitter questioning.

"Surely, ere long!" he answered, "and we shall be prepared. I pray to
God, and--smile not at it, lad--some sort of vision in a dream has come
to me that the downfall of 'the Grand Sarrasin' shall be through us,
brethren of the Vale, and perhaps through me."

A kind of holy look floated into his face as he said this and looked
seaward; an upward look as of seraphs close to God, not seraphs frail
and delicate, but full of lusty strength and goodly spirit of war, such
as went forth with Michael, when there was war in Heaven.

"Be strong, and of good courage!" he murmured to himself; and, pausing
awhile, strode with me across the fort, showing me this or that, that
was fresh provided for safety, and the goodly stores of food, and the