"Ah, lord," he was saying, "well it was that Americ, the leper, wandering here in search for red adders, found you and told me!"
"Americ, the leper?" asked Richard, his wits wandering.
"Yes, lord; we keep him shut in a little hut outside the hamlet. But early in the mornings we let him go out hunting for red adders with white bellies; for if he eats enough of them with leeks, he is cured. But you, fair sir, are grievously ill. I must take you to my cottage."
Then Richard lapsed again into a stupor; and when next he saw the world, he was in the miller's house. The good-wife was making a great fire with vine branches, and hanging a huge iron pot to heat water. They had laid Richard on the bed, the only one in the whole house, broad enough for both parents and the half-dozen dirty, shock-headed brats, that were squalling round the single room, and chasing the little pigs who belonged there as much as themselves. The children would steal up to the bed softly on tiptoe, and make curious glances at the "great seigneur," who had avenged their elder brother by slaying the terrible Bull of Valmont. Then their mother would cry out to them to keep their distance: "Who were they to set eyes on the mighty lord, who could send them all to the gallows if he listed?" But Richard, as he gazed on the unkempt, freckled faces, said in his heart, "Ah, if I could give all the St. Julien lands for the one white conscience of that little girl!"
Giles of the Mill presently had out his plodding horse, and pounded away on the road to St. Julien, while his wife called in two wrinkled old crones, who looked at Richard, and shook their heads, then whispered almost loud enough to let him understand. The women put strange things into the pot: the feet of a toad, many weeds and flowers, the tail of a kitten, and a great spider. Then when the water was very hot, they brought some to him in a huge wooden spoon. Richard, though he knew what Arabian physicians could do, was too weak to resist them. Presently there was a clatter of hoofs without, and Herbert, Musa, and Sebastian were coming into the cottage. The face of Musa was very grave when he touched Richard's wrist; his next act was to empty the kettle on the earthen floor. The Norman's last strength was gone: he had tried to rise to greet his friends, sank back; his words were but whispers. Sebastian bent over him.
"Dear father," the priest barely heard, "pray for me, pray for me; I have sworn to go to Jerusalem."
But Richard's eyes were too dim to see the light breaking on Sebastian's face. Herbert and Musa devised a litter, and they bore the knight back to St. Julien.