"Ah, my Damoiselle is young and blithe!" she said, and smiled. "It is long, long since I was a young mother like our Lady, and longer still since I was a little child. But the bare old well in the stony valley—that came home to me. He was weary! Yet He was God. He is rested now, on the throne of His glory: yet He cares for me, that am weary still. So I just knelt down at the old well, and I said to Him, in my ignorant way,—’Fair Father,[#] Jesu Christ, I thank Thee that Thou wert weary, and that by Thy weariness thou hast given me rest.’ It felt to rest me,—a visit to the place where He sat, tired and hungry. But my Damoiselle cannot understand." [#] "Bel Père"—one of the invocations then usual. "No, Margot, I don’t at all," said I. "Ah, no! It takes a tired man to know the sweetness of rest." Three days’ journey through the Val de Luna, which used to be called the Vale of Ajalon, brought us to the city of Gran David, which was of old named Gibeon. The valley is styled De Luna because it was here that Monseigneur Saint Joshua commanded the sun and moon to stand still while he vanquished the Paynims. From Gran David it is only one day’s journey to the Holy City. "To-morrow, Margot!" said I, in great glee. "Only to-morrow, we shall see the Holy Sepulchre!" "Ha! Thanks be to the good God. And we need not wait till to-morrow to see Him that rose from it." "Why, Marguerite, dost thou ever have visions?" "Visions? Oh no! Those are for the holy saints; not for a poor ignorant villein woman like me." "Then what didst thou mean, just now?" "Ah, my Damoiselle cannot understand." "Margot, I don’t like that. Thou art always saying it. I want to understand." "Then she must ask the good God to show her." And that is all I can get out of her. Short of a league from the Holy City is the little hill called Mont Joie, because from it the palmers catch the first glimpse of the blessed Jerusalem. We were mounting, as it seemed to me, a low hillock, when Amaury rode up beside me, and parting the curtains, said— "Now, Elaine, look out, for we are on the Mont Joie. Wilt thou light down?" "Certainly," I answered. So Amaury stopped the litter, and gave me his hand, and I jumped out. He took me to the place where the palmers kneel in thanksgiving for being brought thus far on their journey: and here I had my first sight of the Holy City. It is but a small city, yet strongly fortified, having three walls. No Paynim is permitted to enter it, nor of course any heathen Jew. I cannot imagine how it was that the good God ever suffered the Holy City, even for an hour, to be in the hands of those wicked people. Yet last night, in the tent, if Marguerite did not ask me whether Monseigneur Saint Paul was not a Jew! I was shocked. "Oh dear, no!" said I. "I heard somebody say so," she replied.