“So far as it goes, I do not object to the explanation; it requires great additions, however,” replied Herbert.
“Which the author considered to be compensated for by adding more characters than the tale contained, in several of his other explanations.”
“Domitian is obliged to the old monk,” said Thompson, “for such a pretty character of justice and mercy.”
“See again the system of compensation; in the next story Adrian is as much traduced, as Domitian flattered in this. But, remember, the old monk was writing neither histories nor biographies; any name that occurred to him served his purpose; he looks more to the effect of his incidents than to the names of his characters. With this prelude I will give you
“THE TRIALS OF EUSTACE.”
When Trajan was emperor of Rome, Sir Placidus, a knight of great prowess, and a most skilful commander, was chief of the armies of the empire. Like his imperial master, he was merciful, just, and charitable, but a worshipper of idols, a despiser of the Christian faith. His wife was worthy of his virtues, and was of one accord with him in his religion. Two sons had he, educated in all the magnificence that befitted their father’s station; but, as was to be expected, the faith of the parents was the faith of their children; they were idolaters.
It was a fair, soft day, the southerly wind blew lightly over the meadows, and the fleecy clouds, ever and anon obscuring the sun, proclaimed the hunters’ day. Sir Placidus rode to the chase. His friends and his retainers were with him, and a right gallant company were they. A herd of deer was soon found, the dogs loosed from their leashes, the bugles sounded, and the whole of the company in full and eager pursuit. One stag of lofty stature, and many-branching antlered head, separated itself from the rest of the herd, and made for the depths of the neighboring forest. The company followed the herd, but Sir Placidus gave his attention to the noble animal, and tracked it through the mazes of the wood.
Swift and long was the chase. Sir Placidus rode after the stag, ever gaining just near enough to the noble animal to inspire him with a hope of its ultimate capture, yet never so near as to strike it with his hunting spear. On, on they went with untiring speed. The wood and its thickets were passed, a lofty hill rose to the view. He pressed the stag up its sides, and gained rapidly on the chase. In a moment the stag turned and faced the knight; he prepared to strike, but his hand was stayed as he saw between the horns of the creature a cross encircled with a ring of glorious light. Whilst he mused on the wonder, a voice addressed him. The stag seemed to speak thus to the knight:
“Why persecutest thou me, Placidus? for thy sake have I assumed this shape; I am the God whom thou ignorantly worshippest; I am Christ. Thine alms and thy prayers have gone up before me, and therefore am I now come. As thou dost hunt this stag; even so will I hunt thee.”
Placidus swooned at these words, and fell from his horse. How long he lay on the ground he knew not. When his senses returned, he cried in anguish: