The castle would have had them bide the night, and the Crusader discourse of the Holy Land. But Garin must on. His imagination was seized; what lay before him drew him imperiously, like a loadstone. He bade the lord and lady of the castle farewell, mounted his horse, Noureddin, and with his men behind him took the road. The earth lay drowned in light, the air seemed hardly a strip of gauze between it and the sun. They must ride somewhat slowly through the afternoon. At last the heat and dazzle of the day declined. Straight before them lay the Abbey of Saint Pamphilius, and that were good harbourage for the night, but not for any who meant to enter battle upon the side of Roche-de-Frêne! The night would be dry, warm and bright. The men had food with them, in leathern pouches. Forest lay to the right of the road. Garin spoke to his squires: “It is to my fancy to sleep in this wood to-night. Once I did sleep here, but without esquires and men-at-arms and war-horse.” It chanced that the moon was almost full. Garin watched it mount between the branches of the trees, and the past rose with it to suffuse the present. He could recall the moods of that night, but they seemed to him now frail and boyish.... Dawn broke; his men rose from where they lay like brown acorns. Nearby, the stream that ran through the wood widened into a pool. Knight, squires, and men-at-arms laid aside clothing, plunged into the cool element, had joy of it. Afterwards, they breakfasted sparely. When the sun lighted the hill-tops they were again upon the road. The road now trended eastward. They came to a chapel that was a ruin. Beside it, scooped from the hillside and shaded by an oak, appeared a hermit’s cell. At first they thought that it was empty, but at length a grey figure, lean and trembling as a reed, peeped forth. “Who broke down the chapel, father?” asked Garin. The hermit stared at him. “Fair son and sir knight, are you from the Toulouse side?” “We have ridden two days from the westward. This is the boundary?” The hermit looked with lack-lustre eyes, then wagged his head up and down. “Aye, fair knight and son! The lords of Toulouse and Roche-de-Frêne built the chapel, each bearing half the cost. But a band belonging to the Lord of Montmaure came this way. Its captain said that he pulled down only Roche-de-Frêne’s half—but all fell! The Holy Father at Rome ought to hear of it!” “Are Montmaure’s men still at hand?” The hermit shook his head. “They harrowed the country and went. I saw flames all one night and heard the cries of the damned!”