He turned back: the weight of his chains had bent him double, he could not stand upright, the sores which the iron had caused were putrefying, and the time of his deliverance from the earth seemed to draw nigh. In the night the same old man appeared again, accompanied by two fair youths. “Master,” said one, “it is time to restore health to this pilgrim.” “Not yet,” replied the old man, “but when the monks shall rise to chant the vigils.” At the hour of vigils Frotmond crawled with the rest into the church. There he fell asleep, and while he slept, the old man appeared again and tore off the chains, which fell to the ground, and by the noise of their falling awakened Frotmond. They placed him in a bed, and in three days he was well and sound again, miraculously cured of his festering sores; but he was not yet satisfied, and was preparing for a third pilgrimage when he fell ill and died. The old man and the dream, were they his disguise for a resolution to endure no more the tyranny of the Church? or were they the invention of a later time, and of some bolder spirit than the rest, who would not allow that to Rome alone belonged the power of binding and of loosing? With the passion for pilgrimages grew up the desire to find and to possess relics. These, towards the end of the tenth century, when a general feeling that the end of the world was approaching caused the building of new churches everywhere and the reconstruction of old ones, were found in great abundance. “Thanks to certain revelations and some signs,” says Raoul the Bald, “we succeeded in finding holy relics, long hidden from human eyes. The saints themselves, by word of God, appeared to the faithful and reclaimed an earthly resurrection.” The revelations began at Sens-sur-Yonne, in Burgundy, where they still show a goodly collection of holy bones, including the finger with which Luke wrote his Gospel, and the chair in which he sat while he was writing it. Archbishop Leuteric was so fortunate as to find a piece of Moses’ rod; with this many miracles were wrought. Almost every returning pilgrim had something which he had either picked up, or bought, or been instructed in a vision of the night to bring home with him. This treasure he deposited in the parish church: pious people set it with pearls and precious stones, or enclosed it in a golden casket: stories grew up about it, sick people resorted to the place to be cured, and one more legend was added to the innumerable fables of relics. It is useful to remember, as regards the pilgrimages, the finding of relics, and the strange heresies of the time, that it was a period of great religious excitement, as well as of profound ignorance: nothing was too wonderful to be believed; no one so wise as not to be credulous. No one had actually seen a miracle with his own eyes, but everybody knew of countless miracles seen by his neighbour’s eyes. Meantime, the toleration granted to the Christians through the wisdom of Harûn