"My lord Count, you must visit the library, even if it is only for a moment," said the monk, opening the door. A score of desks were arranged in a half-circle around one of larger size, which Rechberg perceived, at once, was a masterpiece of sculpture. This work of art was ornamented with arabesques, and with flowers, birds, and animals of every description; upon it was a book in Greek characters. "They write the books here," said Severinus; "the reader is seated at the upper desks, with the copyists in front and around him. You can judge for yourself, (and he offered the manuscripts to Rechberg,) if they know their business. And our fathers attend to everything! We have twenty copies of the Holy Scriptures. Nearly all the works of the early Fathers, and many of those written by pagan authors and priests are to be found in our library. Every year some of the order go through France and England, and even as far as Greece, in search of rare manuscripts, of which four copies are immediately made." After leaving the cloister, and crossing a vacant yard, they came to a house with large windows. The rooms were filled with evidences of the sculptor's art; figures and images of all sorts were standing there on pedestals. "Is not that a splendid angel's head?" said Severinus; "the features are so sweet and delicate, and the folds of the robe so natural! And that Holy Virgin! how beautiful and gracious she appears! I do not think it possible to give more life to a work of stone." But Rechberg was thinking of something else, and sympathized very little with the artistic enthusiasm of his companion. "It is a pity that we cannot go in," said Severinus, pointing to a placard on which was written, _Porta clausa_. "The door is closed and the painter is at work; but it is a great loss, Count." "I cannot see everything in one day," replied Erwin, who was delighted. "You would be obliged to stay at Cluny for months if you would do justice to everything. The church alone, with all its pictures, and portraits, and mosaics, would require a long examination." "Whose dwelling is this?" asked Erwin, as they passed before a handsome house. "The Holy Father lives there. May God protect him! His enemies give him no rest. He was forced to fly from Italy, and with difficulty can obtain an asylum in France." "With difficulty? Are the French, partisans of Pope Victor?" "God preserve us from it!" said Severinus; "but we fear the fierce Barbarossa, who has taken it into his head that Victor must be Pope, whether or no!" Erwin smiled at the dread which his godfather inspired,