there had been
narrower than this place, his fare no less coarse than that he had just
partaken of, and his pallet bed scarce so comfortable as this truss of
straw.

"Father Paul often lay for weeks upon the bare stone floor," mused
Raymond, as he sat down again upon his bed. "Sure I need not grumble
that I have such a couch as this."

He was very stiff and bruised, as he found on attempting to move about,
but he had no actual wounds, and no bones were broken. His light strong
armour had protected him, or else his foes had been striving to vanquish
without seriously hurting him. He could feel that his head had been a
good deal battered about, for any consecutive thought tired him; but it
was something to have come off without worse injury, and sleep would
restore him quickly to his wonted strength.

He lay down upon the straw presently, and again he slept soundly and
peacefully. He woke up many hours later greatly refreshed, aroused by
some sound from the outside of his prison. The light had completely
faded from the loophole. The place was in pitchy darkness. There is
something a little terrible in black oppressive darkness -- the darkness
which may almost be felt; and Raymond was not sorry, since he had
awakened, to hear the sound of grating bolts, and then the slow creaking
of a heavy door upon its hinges.

A faint glimmer of light stole into the cell, and Raymund marked the
entrance of a tall dark figure habited like a monk, the cowl drawn so
far over the face as entirely to conceal the features. However, the
ecclesiastical habit was something of a comfort to Raymond, who had
spent so much of his time amongst monks, and he rose to his feet with a
respectful salutation in French.

The monk stepped within the cell, and drew the door behind him, turning
the heavy key in the lock. The small lantern he carried with him gave
only a very feeble light; but it was better than nothing, and enabled
Raymond to see the outline of the tall form, which looked almost
gigantic in the full religious habit.

"Welcome, Holy Father," said Raymond, still speaking in French. "Right
glad am I to look upon face of man again. I prithee tell me where I am,
and into whose hands I have fallen; for methinks there is some mistake
in the matter, and that they take me for one whom I am not."

"They take thee for one Raymond de Brocas, who lays claim, in thine own
or thy brother's person, to Basildene in England and Orthez and Saut in
Gasco