creation. There was an expression of great energy about his mouth; his
whole face indicated intelligence and benevolence; and it was the actual
possession of this energy, intellect, and virtue that made Father Omehr
a worthy descendant of the noble emissaries of Adrian, who, ever in the
rear of Charlemagne's armies, healed by the Cross the wounds inflicted
by the sword, and drove forever from the forests of Germany the gloomy
and accursed rites of Hesus and Taranis.

Gilbert de Hers was more than a fearless hunter and skilful soldier. He
had been carefully instructed by his confessor in the writings of the
Fathers--in logic, philosophy, and the classics; he had read the death
of Patroclus, and the episode of Nisus and Euryalus; he knew by heart
many of those beautiful hymns whose authors, in the spirit of Catholic
humility, had concealed their names. He was much beloved by all who knew
him and were permitted to love him. His charities were numerous and
unostentatious. Though scarcely twenty-one, his bearing, was bold and
manly; there was no disguise about his large black eyes; they spoke out
all his thoughts before his tongue could tell them. Apart from the great
beauty of his features, high thoughts had printed a language on his face
much more fascinating than mere regularity of feature. His very elegant
form did not promise extraordinary strength, yet he was as formidable to
his foes as welcome to his friends.

Gilbert rose at the conclusion of his rather protracted meal, and
declared he would remain seated no longer while his companion stood. The
priest carefully removed the remnants, after which he sat down upon the
bench, and obliged the youth to sit beside him.

"Now, my son," he said, "tell me what in the world has brought you here
alone?"