CHAPTER XIX.

THE LEGEND OF SIR FIDUCIO CONTINUED.

When Wisdom entereth into thine heart, and knowledge is pleasant to thy soul, discretion shall preserve thee, understanding shall keep thee. Happy is the man that findeth Wisdom. Forsake her not, and she shall preserve thee: love her, and she shall keep thee: exalt her, and she shall promote thee; she shall bring thee to honour.-Proverbs of Solomon.

THE boys were all very anxious to hear the continuation of the organist's tale. Harry Scamper delighted above all things to listen to stories about knights and castles. He should have liked to stay a day or two at least with the gay huntsmen; but he had no doubt Sir Fiducio acted most wisely in going forward on his journey. George Freeman gravely declared it was a very ingenious allegory; but little Jack Wilkins could not understand what it all meant. However, he liked to hear it. So when they were all assembled in mute expectation, the organist began as follows:

6. HOW SIR FIDUCIO SAW A VISION, WHICH YET WAS NOT

A VISION.

We left the young knight enjoying sweet slumber, after the perils and labours of the day past, in the cell of the holy anchorite. He slept long and soundly, and his sleep was refreshing; such as they alone enjoy who

have earned repose by labour. And it fell out, that as he yet lay on his hard couch, it seemed to him that, about the earliest blush of morn, when the eastern sky was first tinted by the unrisen sun, a notable vision was presented to his eyes. A lovely virgin, clothed in a white robe, appeared to enter the cell. Her mien was noble and graceful, and a heavenly brightness, mingled with pure modesty, illumined her downcast eyes. With slow and measured step she advanced to the altar, and then bowing on bended knee, she prayed in humble reverence; and, after a time spent in devotion, she again bowed reverently and retired; leaving the youth lost in an ecstacy of wonder and admiration at the extreme beauty and winning modesty of the form which he had beheld.

Scarcely knowing whether he were awake or asleep, Sir Fiducio sprang from his stony bed, and looked around him to see whether the blessed vision were really departed. But in the place where the lady had been, he saw the hermit on his knees, offering up his matin prayers. Then the young knight knelt beside him, and mingled his prayers with those of the holy man, and besought yet more fervently than heretofore to be delivered from evil tempations and carnal guile. And when they had finished praying together, the hermit rose; and while the youth still knelt, he bestowed on him his blessing; whereat the knight was greatly comforted and strengthened.

After these pious exercises, they departed into the outer cell; and the hermit set before the youth such temperate food as was needful to support him in his journey. Then Sir Fiducio bethought him to relate to the old man the fair vision which he had seen of the

lady worshipping in the chapel. Whereupon the hermit smiled, and said, “Sir knight, the vision which thou hast seen is no vision, but a reality. Know that the fair virgin is the Lady Sophia,1 who is wont at daybreak each morn to offer up her prayers at that altar, whither she cane as usual; little wotting, it may be, that any observed her."

Ah," said the knight, "is she indeed a being of mortal race? Then is she the loveliest lady that man ever beheld, and truly the meekest and most modest."

Thereupon the young man mused in deep silence : then, after some space he said, with faultering tongue, "I would fain, holy father, crave of thee a boon." "What is the boon that thou wouldst crave, sir knight?"

"I may not now tarry, being constrained to journey onward in the service of the great King; but I would ask permission to devote myself henceforth to that lovely lady, and do battle as her champion: for I swear that there is none other under heaven fairer or worthier than she."

"Thou hast truly said," replied the hermit; "and if it please thee to hear it, I may tell thee that thou art not unknown to her. She hath seen thee when thou knewest not, even when thou wert young in thy father's castle, and will be well pleased to hear that thou hast devoted thyself to be her champion in the army of the great King. Nay, I promise thee, that if thou bearest thyself as a good soldier and servant of the great King, she may be nearer to thee than thou wottest. This day thou hast seen and admired her; shew thyself a true

1 Sophia is the Greek word for wisdom.

knight, and thou mayest one day know her better. More I cannot say. 'Tis time for thee to resume thy journey."

Then was Sir Fiducio filled with joy, when he knew that the fair virgin would not scorn his suit. So, after taking reverent leave of his aged host, he mounted his good steed, and set forward again on his journey; and had any one beheld that knight, who had also seen him on the day before, he would have discerned a marvellous change in his whole countenance and demeanour. For whereas, when he first set forward, his eye was bright and blithesome, and eager hope appeared in every look and motion, and ever, as he went along, he looked right forward and spurred his steed, as the varied scene opened to his view; his countenance was now more grave and thoughtful, and his eye, though bright and kindling, seemed to muse on inward thoughts; and anon he cast his looks backward toward the lowly hermitage, and anon he threw his watchful glance around him, to guard himself against deceitful treachery. Yet ever with earnest intent he pressed forward on his journey with more fixed determination when thoughts of that bright vision arose before his mind.

7. HOW SIR FIDUCIO COMES INTO A CAVE, AND OF THE SAD SIGHTS WHICH HE SEES THEREIN.

And as he journeyed on, the face of the day began to change, and large masses of thick clouds gathered from the four quarters of heaven, and the thunder was heard to roll and heavy drops to fall. Then Sir Fiducio bethought of seeking shelter; and he spied nigh him a spacious cave, scooped out, as it were, by the hand of Nature in the living rock. Thither he entered; and

having tied his horse at the mouth, he himself sat down on a stone, ever expecting that the clouds would clear away, and the sun shine forth. And as he there sat, he heard, from the recesses of the cave, strange sounds, like stifled sobs and groans of men in sorrow. Therefore, drawing his sword, he walked onward further in that darksome cavern, until the light of the day no longer guided his steps; still he went onward, stumbling over stones and broken rocks, until at length he fell suddenly down into a deep pit, and was sorely bruised and stunned, and his good sword fell from his hand. Then he heard a fiendish laugh, as from many voices, ring through the caverned recesses; yet nought could he see for the gloom and darkness. And he heard a voice of one speaking to his fellow, "Here is another wight fallen into the pit;" and with that they laughed again in hideous glee.

Then said Sir Fiducio, “How sayest thou? What pit is this? and who are ye?"

"Thou hast fallen, sir knight,” answered the voice, "into the pit of the foul fiend Miscredente, who will come ere long and bind thee prisoner, as we are bound.”

When Sir Fiducio heard this, he grieved exceedingly, and blamed himself for entering at all into the dark cave. Then said the other, "There is no hope for thee. Nought remains but to submit and curse thy fate."

Sir Fiducio, however, would not thus give himself up for lost, but fell on his knees and prayed earnestly to Heaven for succour and deliverance.

Then, even as he prayed, he spied a light sparkling before him, and perceived that it was the ruby which was set in the handle of his good sword. Therefore,