ed dead. This brave fellow's skull Hugh took
in his hands, worshipped the saint, gave gold; and then tried hard to
tweak out one of his teeth: but such dentistry was unavailing. He then
put his fingers into the nostrils which had so often drawn in the sweet
odour of Christ and got with ease a lovely little bone, which had parted
the eyes, kissed it and felt a richer hope of being directed into the
way of peace and salvation; for so great a bishop would certainly fix
his spiritual eyes upon him after this.

Next he went to St. Denis, where he prayed long at the tombs of the
saints. The scholars of Paris, of all breeds, turned out in crowds to
see a man, who, after St. Nicholas, had done so much good to clerks.
Kisses, colloquies and invitations rained upon him, but he chose to
lodge in the house of his relative Reimund. This man he had made Canon
of Lincoln, and he afterwards refused to buy off King John and became
an exile for conscience and the patron of exiles, and thus was in life
and character a true son of St. Hugh. Among the visitors here were the
Dauphin Lewis and Arthur of Brittany. The latter turned up his nose when
told to live in love and peace with Uncle John; but Lewis carried off
the bishop to cheer his weeping political bride Blanche, lately bartered
into the match. The good bishop walked to the palace, and Blanche bore a
merry face and a merry heart after he had talked with her.

The next place was Troyes, and here a wretch came with a doleful story.
He had been bailiff to the Earl of Leicester, had torn a rogue from
sanctuary at Brackley; had been excommunicated by Hugh, with all his
mates. They had submitted and been made to dig up the putrid body and
carry it a mile, clad only in their drawers, be whipped at every church
door they passed, bury the body with their own hands, and then come to
Lincoln for more flogging: and all this in the winter. This sentence
frightened the bailiff, who bolted; but ill-luck dogged him. He lost his
place, his money, and at last came to beg for shrift and punishment.
Hugh gave him a seven years' penance and he went on his way rejoicing.

The next great place was Vienne on the Rhone. Here were the ashes of St.
Anthony of the Desert, wrapped in the tunic of Paul, the first hermit.
The Carthusian Bruno had caught the enthusiasm for solitude from these
ambulatory ashes, which had travelled from Alexandria to Constantinople
and so to Vienne in 1070. Of course they were worki