Their wet garments would be hung in front of the hearth and after they had been refreshed by food they would relate their travels, and discuss the uncertainty of vessels on the high seas, their long journeys across burning sands, the ferocity of the infidels, the caves of Syria, the Manger and the Holy Sepulchre.

They made presents to the young heir of beautiful shells, which they carried in their cloaks.
The lord of the manor very often feasted his brothers-at-arms, and over the wine the old warriors would talk of battles and attacks, of war-machines and of the frightful wounds they had received, so that Julian, who was a listener, would scream with excitement; then his father felt convinced that some day he would be a conqueror.

But in the evening, after the Angelus, when he passed through the crowd of beggars who clustered about the church-door, he distributed his alms with so much modesty and nobility that his mother fully expected to see him become an archbishop in time.
His seat in the chapel was next to his parents, and no matter how long the services lasted, he remained kneeling on his _prie-dieu,_ with folded hands and his velvet cap lying close beside him on the floor.
One day, during mass, he raised his head and beheld a little white mouse crawling out of a hole in the wall.

It scrambled to the first altar-step and then, after a few gambols, ran back in the same direction.

On the following Sunday, the idea of seeing the mouse again worried him.