On the morrow of Ash Wednesday, 1199, a great multitude thronged the Church of St. Donatian's at Bruges. Count Baldwin was to take the cross. The scene in the old church, old even in those days, was a solemn and a striking one. Within those walls which had witnessed so many tragedies and stirring deeds was gathered the _élite_ of Flanders--the flower of Flemish chivalry was there, the household of the sovereign and of his consort, Marie of Champagne, and a host of wealthy citizens in holiday attire. Ranged on each side of the altar stood the famous canons of Bruges, in their long white linen rochets and purple veils, in front of them two choirs of singing boys from St. Donatian's school. The great bell tolled as if for a funeral, perhaps that same great bell which five centuries later fell from its lofty tower, and for fifty years lay buried beneath the débris of the cathedral, and now sends forth its melodious voice from the steeple of Notre Dame. 'O God, the heathen are come into Thine heritage, Thy Holy Temple have they defiled. Jerusalem is an heap of stones.... Help us, O God of our Salvation and for the glory of Thy Name deliver us, lest haply they should say among the Gentiles, where is now their God.' Thus plaintively the first choir, and then with a shout of triumph the men and boys on the opposite side of the chancel made response:-- 'Let God arise, and let His enemies be scattered, and let them that hate Him flee before His face. Like as smoke vanisheth, so let them vanish away, and as wax melteth before the fire, so let the wicked perish at the presence of God.' 'Receive this symbol,' murmured the Archbishop of Tournai as he fastened to Baldwin's breast a white linen cross embroidered with threads of gold, 'receive this symbol in memory of the Passion of Jesus Christ, and of the cross on which He died.' When Marie of Champagne besought the aged prelate to place also on her breast the Crusaders' sign, a shout of admiration, and perhaps too of dismay, burst from the crowd. Marie was so tender and so beautiful, and the way of the Cross was so hard--pray God that her end be not like that of the ill-fated Countess Sybil.