He reached the end of the crest and drew rein before descending, and he
looked down into the broad valley and the river winding in and out
among trees, gleaming like silver out there in the sun beyond the
narrowing shadow, then dark blue, and then, in places, as black as ink.
The white road, broad and dusty, winding on to Florence, followed the
changing river. Gilbert took his cap from his head and felt the
coolness of the morning on his forehead and the gentle breath of the
early summer in his fair hair; and then, sitting there in the deep
silence, bareheaded, it seemed to him that he was in the very holy
place of God's cathedral.

"The peace of God, which passeth all understanding," he repeated softly
and almost involuntarily.

"Now the God of peace be with you all, amen," answered Dunstan.

But there was a tone in his voice that made Gilbert look at him, and he
saw in the man's face a quiet smile, as if something amused him, while
the black eyes were fixed on a sight far away. Dunstan was pointing to
what he saw; so Gilbert looked, too, and he perceived a gleaming, very
far off, that moved slowly on the white road beside the shining river.

"They are expecting a fight to-day," said Gilbert, "for they are in
mail and their mule-train is behind them."

"Shall we turn aside and ride up the mountain, to let them pass?" asked
Dunstan, who could fight like a wildcat, but had also the cat's
instinctive caution.

"It would be a pity not to see the fight," answered Gilbert, and he