"My brother," said the prior then present, "dost thou remember that
a party of pilgrims arrived here a year since, who said that, in
the gorges of Lebanon, they had come upon the scene of a recent
conflict, and found a broken sword, which they brought with them
and left here?"

"Bring it hither, Raymond," said Sir Hugh to a sprightly page.

It was brought, and to his joy Hubert recognised the sword of the
Sieur de Fievrault, which he had broken on a Moslem's skull in the
desperate fight wherein he was taken prisoner. With what joy did he
receive it! He could now discharge his father's delegated duty.

"Rest here awhile, and when thy strength is fully restored, start
with better omens on thy journey to Jerusalem."

Oh, the rest of the next few days in that glorious hospital, with
its deep shady cloisters, with its massive walls and its beauteous
chapel, wherein, on the following day, which was Sunday, as Hubert
was told, for he had long since lost count of time, he returned
thanks to God for his preservation, and took part once more in the
worship of a Christian congregation, and knelt before a Christian
altar. The walls of that chapel were of almost as many precious
stones as Saint John enumerates in describing the New Jerusalem.
Its rich colouring, its dim religious light, its devout psalmody;
oh, how soothing to the wearied spirit.

And then he reclined that afternoon in a delicious Eastern garden,
rich with the perfume of many flowers, shaded by spreading trees,
vocal with the sound of many fountains; and there, at the request