fied medieval town barred in those who belonged to it very
effectively. High monastic walls intrenched the monk still further.
From the summit of the tower you looked straight down into the deep
narrow streets, upon the houses (in one of which Prior Saint-Jean was
born) climbing as high as they dared for breathing space within that
narrow compass. But you saw also the green breadth of Normandy and
Picardy, this way and that; felt on your face the free air of a still
wider realm beyond what was seen. The reviving scent of it, the mere
sight of the flowers brought thence, of the country produce at the
convent gate, stirred the ordinary monkish soul with desires, sometimes
with efforts, to be sent on duty there. Prior [146] Saint-Jean, on the
other hand, shuddered at the view, at the thoughts it suggested to him;
thoughts of unhallowed wild places, where the old heathen had
worshipped "stocks and stones," and where their wickedness might still
survive them in something worse than mischievous tricks of nature, such
as you might read of in Ovid, whose verses, however, he for his part
had never so much as touched with a finger. He gave thanks rather,
that his vocation to the abstract sciences had kept him far apart from
the whole crew of miscreant poets--Abode of demons.

Thither nevertheless he was now to depart, sent to the Grange or
Obedience of Notre-Dame De-Pratis by the aged Abbot (about to resign in
his favour) for the benefit of his body's health, a little impaired at
last by long intellectual effort, yet so invaluable to the community.
But let him beware! whispered his dearest friend, who shared those
strange misgivings, let him "take heed to his ways" when he was come to
that place. "The mere contact of one's feet with its soil might change
one." And that same night, disturbed perhaps by thoughts of the coming
journey with which his brain was full, Prior Saint-Jean himself dreamed
vividly, as he had been little used to do. He saw the very place in
which he lay (he knew it! his little inner cell, the brown doors, the
white breadth of wall, the black crucifix upon it) alight, alight [147]
softly; and looking, as he fancied, from the window, saw also a low
circlet of soundless flame, waving, licking daintily up the black sky,
but harmless, beautiful, closing in upon that round dark space in the
midst, which was the earth. He seemed to feel upon his shoulder just
then the touch of his friend beside him. "It is h