Again he re-opened his school, again many listened to his defence of the truth, again he aroused the enmity of the orthodox church, who, this time, had as their champion the greatest name in all Christendom, the more than Pope, St. Bernard. Abélard's four happy years of quiet service were at an end. He fled to the lonely abbey of St. Gildas, in Brittany, his native province, "a barbarous country, the language of which I do not understand," where his walks were along the inaccessible shore of a sea that was always stormy, where dissolute monks lived only to hunt, "and the doors and walls were without ornament, save the heads of wild boars and the feet of hinds and the hides of frightful animals."[121] During all these years, though neither was forgotten by the other, no communication had passed between Abélard the monk and Héloïse the nun. Now, for a brief period, the currents of their lives were to mingle again. In the year 1128, the monastery of Argenteuil passed to the abbey of St. Denis, then ruled by Suger, who was no friend to Abélard. The nuns were dispersed, and Héloïse and her sisters found themselves without shelter. Here was the old lover's opportunity. Paraclet, bereft of its lord, had no tenants; Héloïse had no home. An impulse swiftly acted upon, some sudden instinct of pity, of desire, of remorse for the sufferings of which he was the responsible cause, led Abélard to obtain permission to offer her the shelter of his old retreat. She accepted this offer, and established there a nunnery, of which she herself was appointed to be the first abbess. Héloïse and her sisters were to follow the rigorous rule of St. Benedict, modified by Abélard--after special study--as a concession to the frail physique of women. [Illustration: MAISON COLOMBIER--BEAUNE _Facing page 150_] The old lovers, both taught in the stern school of suffering, seem to have accepted, with full self-control, the new and spiritual relationship upon which they were about to enter. In the priest's case, that is more easily understood. For him, though still he says, "I sigh, I weep, I grieve, I speak the dear name of Héloïse, I delight to hear the sound," the days of physical desire were past for ever.