And so soon as he is able once more to rush on, which of the princes dare hold back?
They must follow him for very shame, although they would march under the banner of Satan as soon." "Be content," said Conrade of Montserrat; "ere this physician, if he work by anything short of miraculous agency, can accomplish Richard's cure, it may be possible to put some open rupture betwixt the Frenchman--at least the Austrian--and his allies of England, so that the breach shall be irreconcilable; and Richard may arise from his bed, perhaps to command his own native troops, but never again, by his sole energy, to wield the force of the whole Crusade." "Thou art a willing archer," said the Templar; "but, Conrade of Montserrat, thy bow is over-slack to carry an arrow to the mark." He then stopped short, cast a suspicious glance to see that no one overheard him, and taking Conrade by the hand, pressed it eagerly as he looked the Italian in the face, and repeated slowly, "Richard arise from his bed, sayest thou?
Conrade, he must never arise!" The Marquis of Montserrat started.

"What! spoke you of Richard of England--of Coeur de Lion--the champion of Christendom ?" His cheek turned pale and his knees trembled as he spoke.

The Templar looked at him, with his iron visage contorted into a smile of contempt.
"Knowest thou what thou look'st like, Sir Conrade, at this moment?
Not like the politic and valiant Marquis of Montserrat, not like him who would direct the Council of Princes and determine the fate of empires--but like a novice, who, stumbling upon a conjuration in his master's book of gramarye, has raised the devil when he least thought of it, and now stands terrified at the spirit which appears before him." "I grant you," said Conrade, recovering himself, "that--unless some other sure road could be discovered--thou hast hinted at that which leads most direct to our purpose.

But, blessed Mary! we shall become the curse of all Europe, the malediction of every one, from the Pope on his throne to the very beggar at the church gate, who, ragged and leprous, in the last extremity of human wretchedness, shall bless himself that he is neither Giles Amaury nor Conrade of Montserrat." "If thou takest it thus," said the Grand Master, with the same composure which characterized him all through this remarkable dialogue, "let us hold there has nothing passed between us--that we have spoken in our sleep--have awakened, and the vision is gone." "It never can depart," answered Conrade.
"Visions of ducal crowns and kingly diadems are, indeed, somewhat tenacious of their place in the imagination," replied the Grand Master.
"Well," answered Conrade, "let me but first try to break peace between Austria and England." They parted.

Conrade remained standing still upon the spot, and watching the flowing white cloak of the Templar as he stalked slowly away, and gradually disappeared amid the fast-sinking darkness of the Oriental night.