Once when his sovereign had to have some dealings with the king of
Aragon, he sent San Bernardo, who at that time was called Prince Hamete,
to Barcelona. During his journey he drew up one night at the portal of
the monastery of Poblet. The chants of the Cistercians, drifting
mystical and vague through the Gothic arches, moved the Saracen youth to
the bottom of his soul. He felt drawn to the religion of his enemies by
the magic of its poetry. He received baptism, assumed the white habit of
Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, and later returned to the kingdom of
Valencia to preach Christianity. There he enjoyed the tolerance Saracen
monarchs always had for new religious doctrines. He converted his two
sisters--beautiful Mooresses they were--and they took the names of
Gracia and Maria, and aflame in turn with pious fervor, they chose to go
with their brother on his tour of preachment.

But the old king of Carlet had died, and his first-born--the arrogant
Almanzor, a brutal, vainglorious Moor--succeeded to the rulership of the
tiny state--a sort of military satrapy. This haughty potentate, offended
in his magnificence to see members of his family traveling over the
roads dressed like vagabonds and preaching a religion of beggars, called
a troop of horse and set out in pursuit of his brother and sisters. He
came upon them near Alcira, hiding on the riverbank. With one slash of
his sword he cut the heads off both his sisters; San Bernardo he
crucified and drove a big nail through his forehead. Thus the sacred
preacher perished, but all the humble continued to adore him; for here
was a handsome prince, who had turned to a poor man, become a wandering
mendicant even--a sacrifice that endeared him to the poorest of his
votaries. Of all this that crowd of peasants was thinking as it shouted
_vivas_ to San Bernardo, now, surely, prime minister of God, as he had
been of the pagan king of Valencia.