And the young man, who was afraid to lie to the king, answered,-- “I would much rather have committed thirty or forty mortal sins than be a leper.” And the king did not answer him; but the next day he said to the young man,-- “Come here and sit at my feet.” Which the young man did, and then St. Louis said, “You spoke yesterday like a wild man in a hurry, for all ills of the body are cured in a little time, when a man dies; but if your soul is tarnished, and you cannot be certain that God has pardoned you, that evil will last for ever as long as God sits in Paradise.” And then he asked the young man suddenly whether he ever washed the feet of poor men on Maundy Thursday, and the young man answered,-- “Sire, far be it from me to wash the feet of poor men! No! Never will I do this thing!” And the king said to him,-- “You are wrong again--thinking yourself too grand to do what God did for our enlightenment. Now I pray you, for the love of God and for the love of me, get yourself into the habit of washing poor men’s feet.” For this king loved all kinds of men, whatsoever kind God had made and Himself loved. On which account also he would give castles to guard to men that had no claim on him, if they had renown in good deeds. And he would have at his table men of any birth for the same reason. And so seated once at table he said to a companion,-- “Tell me the reasons that a ‘loyal gentleman’ is so good a thing to be called.” Then they all began disputing and defining, and at the end the king said, giving no reasons and turning to Robert of Cerbon, the same whom he had defended for dressing well,-- “Master Robert, this is what I think upon the matter: I desire to be called by men a ‘loyal gentleman,’ but much more to know that I am one. And if you would leave me that, you might take all the rest; for that title is so great a thing, and so good a thing, that merely to name it fills my mouth.” THE DEATH OF ST. LOUIS (_August 25, 1270_) There is a little hill, not steep at first sight and seemingly very low, which rises bare enough to-day over the African Sea. The Mediterranean breaks (when in that sheltered gulf it breaks at all) in waves upon a straight and narrow beach at the foot of this hill. Beyond, not farther inland but farther up the coast, another hill, somewhat higher but still insignificant, is joined by a saddle to this first; to the south the land sinks altogether and admits (by a narrow passage) the sea into the broad and stagnant lagoon of Tunis.