"Sir," said John, "be not troubled thereat, for God will provide, if so it seems good to Him. But where are you set to dine?" "John, my dinner is a simple business, for I have nothing in my purse save three sous of Paris." "Sir, be not troubled thereat, for on my part I have with me nearly ten pounds of Tournay money, and these are as your own, since your wallet is not heavy to your wish." "Fair friend, thanks, and thanks again." The two comrades rode at a brisk pace to Montlhery, where John found meat for his lord, and they ate together. When they had eaten they sought their chamber, the knight lying in a fair bed, and John sleeping in another, at his feet. Refreshed with sleep, John rose and did the harness upon their horses, so they mounted and passed upon their way. Journeying thus at last they lighted at Marseilles upon the Sea, but to their grief they might not hear the rumour of any war. There for the time my story ceases to speak of the two of them, and returns to Messire Raoul, that false knight, who, by leasing, had wrongly gained the land of Sir Robert. For more than seven years did Messire Raoul hold the lands of Sir Robert against law and right. Then a sore sickness took hold upon him, and afflicted him so grievously that very near he came to death. Much he feared the wrong he had wrought to that fair lady, the daughter of his lord, and to her husband besides, for by reason of his malice were they utterly undone. So great was his sin that he dared not show the matter to the priest, but tossed upon his bed in utter unrest. On a certain day when his sickness lay too heavy upon him he bade his chaplain draw near his bed, for this priest was a wise confessor, loyal and true, and very close to the sick man's heart. Then he spake-- "Father--my father in God, if not according to the flesh--the time is come when I must die. For God's love give me now your counsel, as you are a ghostly man, for on my soul there lies a sin so ugly and so black that scarcely may I hope to be anealed." The priest prayed him to speak more plainly, so that he might aid him to the utmost of his power, wherefore Sir Raoul brought himself to tell the story that you have heard. At the end he begged the chaplain for the love of God to show him what he must do to obtain the grace of pardon for a sin so dark. "Sir," said the priest, "be not altogether cast down, for so you are willing to do such penance as I lay upon you, I will take your sin on me and on my own soul, and you shall be clean." "Now tell me of this penance," said the knight. "Sir, within a year of your recovery from this sickness must you take the cross and pass beyond the sea, and in all places where men ask the reason of your pilgrimage, there you must tell the story of this bitter wrong. Moreover, this day must you give hostages to God that thus you will do." "All this will I do gladly." "Sir, what rich pledge can you offer, therefore?"