But he never tried to picture what lay inside.

That was sacred--even from his thoughts.
When he grew older and was allowed to prowl about in the scriptorium of the Abbey of Montmirail which lay by the Canche side, he found his wood again.

It was in a Psaltery on which a hundred years before some Flemish monk had lavished his gold and vermilion.

Opposite the verse of Psalm xxiii., "In loco pascuae," was a picture almost the same as that in the bedroom arras.

There were the river, the meadows, and the little wood, painted in colours far brighter than the tapestry.