None knew that the troubadour whose love had cost the lady her life, who had slain the guest of her father, and had then disappeared, was the unhappy son of that guest.

My friends in Paris when they heard of the tragedy of course associated it with me, but they all kept silent.

The monks, to whom I confessed the whole story, were shocked indeed, but consoled me in my grief and despair by the assurance that however greatly I had sinned, the death of the lady had been accidental, and that if I were a parricide it was at least unintentionally.
"My repentance was deep and sincere; and after awhile, under another name, I joined the army of the Crusaders, to expiate my sin by warring for the holy sepulcher.

I fought as men fight who have no wish to live; but while all around me fell by sword and disease, death kept aloof from me.

When the Crusade had failed I determined to turn forever from the world, and to devote my life to prayer and penance; and so casting aside my armor I made my way here, and took up my abode in a cave in this valley, where at that time were many thousands of other hermits--for the Saracens, while they gained much money from fines and exactions from pilgrims who came to Jerusalem, and fought stoutly against those who sought to capture that city, were in the main tolerant, and offered no hindrance to the community of men whom they looked upon as mad.
"Here, my son, for more than sixty years have I prayed, with much fasting and penance.