We have seen how Titus Manlius was requited by his father for his breach of discipline. It was somewhat in the same manner that Helion de Villeneuve received Dieudonne. We borrow Schiller's beautiful version of the conversation that took place, as the young knight, pale, with his black mantle rent, his shining armor dinted, his scarlet surcoat stained with blood, came into the Knights' Great Hall. 'Severe and grave was the Master's brow, Quoth he, 'A hero bold art thou, By valor 't is that knights are known; A valiant spirit hast thou shown; But the first duty of a knight, Now tell, who vows for CHRIST to fight And bears the Cross on his coat of mail.' The listeners all with fear grew pale, While, bending lowly, spake the knight, His cheeks with blushes burning, 'He who the Cross would bear aright Obedience must be learning.' Even after hearing the account of the conflict, the Grand Master did not abate his displeasure. 'My son, the spoiler of the land Lies slain by thy victorious hand Thou art the people's god, but so Thou art become thine Order's foe; A deadlier foe thine heart has bred Than this which by thy hand is dead, That serpent still the heart defiling To ruin and to strife beguiling, It is that spirit rash and bold, That scorns the bands of order; Rages against them uncontrolled Till earth is in disorder. 'Courage by Saracens is shown, Submission is the Christian's own; And where our Saviour, high and holy, Wandered a pilgrim poor and lowly Upon that ground with mystery fraught, The fathers of our Order taught The duty hardest to fulfil Is to give up your own self-will Thou art elate with glory vain. Away then from my sight! Who can his Saviour's yoke disdain Bears not his Cross aright.' 'An angry cry burst from the crowd, The hall rang with their tumult loud; Each knightly brother prayed for grace. The victor downward bent his face, Aside his cloak in silence laid, Kissed the Grand Master's hand, nor stayed. The Master watched him from the hall, Then summoned him with loving call, 'Come to embrace me, noble son, Thine is the conquest of the soul; Take up the Cross, now truly won, By meekness and by self-control.'