The Angel smiled and the place was filled with a heavenly light. At the same moment through the open windows came the chant of the monks:
“He has put down the mighty from their seat
And has exalted them of low degree.”
King Robert understood it at last. Then above the measured tones of the singers rose another voice, one of heavenly sweetness. It said:
“I am an Angel, thou art the king.”
The king lifted his eyes. He was alone. No longer was he dressed in the motley attire of a jester, but he was in royal robes such as he used to wear, in velvet and ermine and cloth of gold.
When the courtiers came back to the room they found their king on his knees, absorbed in silent prayer.