rangers from all France, Germany, and Italy. It was the day appointed
by the Pope for a council to consider the state of the Christians in
Palestine; and loyal sons and daughters of the Church had gathered from
far and near. Outside the limits of the town for miles around, their
white tents and many-colored banners gleamed in the sunshine, for the
village could not accommodate the throngs of visitors.

Now the tents and houses were deserted, as all had crowded into the town
to witness the proceedings of the Council. No building could contain the
thousands of people, so the Pope had decided to hold the meeting in the
great public square of Clermont. Here the vast crowds had assembled. As
far as the eye could reach, down every street leading into the square,
extended a closely packed multitude. They stood silent, almost
motionless, their faces turned toward the platform in the center of the
wide square.

People of all classes, ages, and conditions were there: nobles, clad in
rich dress or glittering armor; priests in dark robes; peasants in
coarse frieze; ladies of rank, merchants, beggars,--all stood side by
side, forgetful of everything worldly, listening eagerly to the words of
the man who looked down on them from the high stand in their midst.

This man was small and mean in his appearance. His bony figure was
covered by a woolen tunic and a coarse serge gown that reached to the
bare feet. From the neck drooped a monk's hood. His thin, haggard face,
burned brown by long exposure to the hot sun and winds of the East,
would have been ugly but for the deep, dark, flashing eyes, lit up with
wild enthusiasm and fiery earnestness. The monk held erect with the left
arm a great wooden cross that overtopped his head. Gesticulating
fiercely as he addressed the absorbed multitude, his slight frame
quivered with the violence of his emotions, and tears rolled down the
sunken cheeks. In a voice often broken by sobs he cried:--

"Men of Clermont, people of France, Christians of all nations, come
hither at the call of our Holy Father, the Pope! I tell you not of
things learned by hearsay; I myself have beheld all these horrors in the
Holy Land of Palestine. Through the ancient streets of Jerusalem the
accursed infidels stalk in the evil pride of conquest. They insult and
oppress, they torture and murder the followers of Christ. They rob and
maltreat the pious pilgrims from all lands who toil through desert and
over mountain to wor