I meant to do!"

Hieronymus did not heed the agitation of his companion; he stood as if
listening to some distant sound. "Son, do you hear...?" he questioned.

Robert came swiftly to his side, listened, heard, and answered: "The
measured tread of many feet. They seem to walk mournfully over my
heart."

"Look out, my son," Hieronymus commanded, "and tell me what you see."

Robert opened the door that gave upon the sea, looked out, and answered,
sadly: "A company of men and women, all in black. They seem weighed down
with sorrow."

"These," said Hieronymus, grimly, "are the noblest folk in Sicily,
flying into exile from the tyrant's lust and greed."

Robert stood motionless, frozen with sorrow.

"These," he said, in his heart, "are the just and righteous whom I meant
to vex and banish."

As in a dream he heard the voice of Hieronymus calling to him: "My son,
give me that iron cross, the cross of the founder of our church. They
shall salute it for the last time."

Robert, going to the wall where the relic stood, tried vainly to lift
the cross. Its weight mocked his efforts, and he turned, gasping and
trembling, to Hieronymus. "Father, I cannot. The sinews of the fool are
too feeble to lift it."

Hieronymus gave a cry of compassion.

"Forgive me. It is heavy, and taxes my strength to move."

In his turn he moved to the cross, lifted it with an effort from its
place, and carried it with difficulty to the altar, where he rested it
for the new-comers to see.

The ache in Robert's heart was crueler than the ache in Robert's arms.

"I was once so proud of my strength," he murmured.

He moved towards the altar, and seated himself on the lowest step,
huddled in grief, while Hieronymus, mounting to the altar, turned to
face the new-comers. Through the sea-door came a company of men and
women, all dressed in black, who ranged themselves, kneeling, in front
of the altar.

Hieronymus addressed the kneeling mourners. "My brethren, are ye going
forth into exile?"

An old man rose and spoke.

"From the land where I was born, from the soil where my father's fathers
sprang, I now must go a wanderer, houseless, penniless. Woe to the
wicked King!"

He knelt again.

Robert, where he crouched, muttered to himself, "I have sinned, I have
sinned, I have grievously sinned."

Next a young woman rose and spoke.

"I and these other women with me, we must fly from the land of our life
and of our love. For the honor of n