"Beware," interposed Adhemar, warningly, for he saw that the chaplain was flushed and excited. "When men's bodies are weak, the devil finds his darts lodge easily. Beware, lest Satan has cast over your eyes a mist, and held out false hopes."
But the chaplain would not be denied.
"Noble lords," quoth he, boldly, "here is a man who declares to me, 'St. Andrew has appeared in a dream, saying, "You shall find the Holy Lance that pierced our dear Lord's side, and by this talisman overcome the unbelievers!"' Will you not hear his tale?"
"And who is this fellow?" urged Adhemar.
"Who, save the unlettered and humble priest, Peter Barthelmy, whom your Episcopal Grace knows well."
Adhemar shook his head hopelessly. "There can be no help in Peter Barthelmy. There are in the host ten thousand saintlier than he, and wiser, and no vision has come to them."
"Yes, my Lord Bishop," cried the chaplain, eagerly; "but is it not written, 'Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and revealed them unto babes?' Cannot God, who made the dumb ass speak, and who appeared unto the child Samuel and not to the wise Eli, make His instrument the untaught clerk Peter of Marseilles?"
There was an honest ring in the chaplain's words and a pious faith behind them, that made Bishop Adhemar grow humble and cross himself.
"Mea culpa, Domine," he muttered, "grant that my pride in my own high estate and wisdom should be rebuked by making this unlearned priest indeed Thy instrument of deliverance." Then aloud, "Admit this man; let us question him, and see if he be of God or Satan." So Count Raymond waited, and his chaplain went forth and led in the priest Peter Barthelmy.
A rough-featured, heavy-handed peasant's son was this Peter. He had gone into holy orders, he scarce knew why; his highest hope had been a little village "cure," where he could tell saints' stories to the girls, and baptize the new-born babes, and enjoy a pot of wine on feast-days, and grow old in peace. But men said that he loved to pray, was very humble, also was fond of having long and circumstantial dreams. When he found himself before the great Count of the South, and Adhemar "the Father of the Army," his speech came thickly, and his knees smote together under his cassock. But Adhemar, whose heart was compassion to all save infidels, told him not to fear, if he had a clean conscience, but to tell them boldly; for they would not despise him, even if poor, untaught, and a villain's son. So Peter found his tongue, and his tale ran after this wise:—