Confined to a wearisome inactivity, he found it necessary to employ his active imagination. In the absence of the romances of chivalry, which had hitherto been his only mental food, he took up the life of Jesus Christ, and the legends or _Flowers of the Saints_. This kind of reading, in his state of solitude and sickness, produced an extraordinary impression on his mind. The noisy life of tournaments and battles, which had hitherto exclusively occupied his thoughts, appeared to recede, to fade and vanish from his sight; and at the same time a more glorious career seemed opening before his astonished eyes. The humble actions of the saints and their heroic sufferings appeared far more worthy of praise than all the high feats of arms and chivalry. Stretched upon his bed, a prey to fever, he yielded to the most opposite thoughts. The world that he was forsaking, the world whose holy mortifications lay before him, appeared together, the one with its pleasures, the other with its austerities; and these two worlds contended in deadly struggle within his bosom. "What if I were to act like St. Francis or St. Dominick?" said he.[249] Then the image of the lady to whom he had pledged his heart rose before him: "She is not a countess," exclaimed he with artless vanity, "nor a duchess; but her condition is much loftier than either."[250] Such thoughts as these filled him with distress and _ennui_, while his plan of imitating the saints inspired him with peace and joy. [249] Quid si ego hoc agerem quod fecit beatus Franciscus, quid si hoc quod beatus Dominicus? Acta Sanct. vii. 634. [250] Non era condessa, ni duquessa, mas era su estado mas alto. Ibid.