With these words the knight refrained from further speech, and turning himself again towards the altar took refuge in the holy liturgy, till the last prayer came to a close with the last chant. Then they got to horse, as was their bounden duty, and rode with speed towards that place where the lists were set for the great play. So, presently, the knights who were returning from the tournament, discomfited and overborne, met him who had carried off all the prizes of the game. They saluted the knight who was on his way from the Divine Offerings, and, joining themselves to his company, praised him to his face, affirming that never before had knight done such feats of arms as he had wrought that day, to his undying fame. Moreover many amongst them drew near and yielded themselves his captives, saying-- "We are your prisoners, for truly we may not deny that you have overthrown us in the field." Then, taking thought, the knight was amazed no more, for quickly he perceived that She had been upon his business in the press, about whose business he had been within the chapel. So he called these knights and his fellowship around him, and said right courteously-- "I pray you, one and all, to hearken to my words, for I have that to tell you which never has been heard of ears." Then he told over to them, word for word, how that he had not jousted in the tournament, neither had broken lance nor hung shield about his neck, by reason of those Masses he had heard, but verily he believed that the Maiden, whom humbly he had besought within the chapel, had worn his harness in the lists. "Altogether lovely in my eyes is this tournament wherein She has done my devoir; but very foully shall I requite such gracious service if I seek another Lady, or in my folly return to the vanities of the world. Therefore I pledge my word to God in truth, that henceforth I will never fight, save in that tourney where He sits, the one true Judge, Who knows the loyal knight, and recompenses him according to his deeds." Then he bade them farewell right piteously, and many of his company wept tenderly as they took their leave. But he, parting from them, went his way to an abbey, to become the servant of the Handmaid of the Lord, and to follow in that path which leadeth to a holy end. So, clearly we may perceive from this ensample, that the gracious God, in Whom we put our faith, loves, cherishes, and delights to honour that man who gladly tarries before His holy altar at the offering of the Mass, and who willingly serves His Mother, so gentle and so dear. Of much profit is this custom, and he who is quiet in the land and wise, will always continue to walk in the way his feet were set in youth, yea, even to that time when he is old and grey-headed. THE PRIEST AND THE MULBERRIES