THE LOST BROTIER. 17

IT am sworn to laugh at danger in the performance
of a duty. My dreams, awake and asleep, are of
him who is lost; and I fantasied last night,’ added
he, lowering his voice, ‘ that my mother stood before
me, as I last saw her when living, and implored me,
in the name of St. Katherine, the patron saint of the
Especs, to fulfil my vow of rescuing her lost son
from captivity and from the enemies of Christ.’

‘Oh, fear not, doubt not, good Walter,’ cried Guy,
with enthusiasm; ‘it must, it shall, be done; and
then we can go and conquer a principality, like
Tancred, or Bohemund of Tarentum, or Count Ray-
mond of St. Giles, and other old heroes.’

‘Even the crown of Jerusalem may not be beyond
our grasp, if fortune favour us,’ said Walter, with a
calm smile.

‘Oh, fortune ever favours the brave,’ exclaimed
Guy; ‘and I hold that nothing is impossible to men
who are brave and ambitious; and no squire of your
years is braver or more ambitious than you, Walter,
or more expert in arms; albeit you never utter a
boast as to your own feats, while no one is more
ready to praise the actions of others.’

‘Even if I had anything to boast of,’ replied
Walter, ‘I should refrain from so doing; and therein
I should only be acting according to the maxims of
chivalry ; for you know we are admonished to be
dumb as to our own deeds, and eloquent in praise of
others; and, moreover, that if the squire is vain-
glorious, he is not worthy to become a knight, and |
that he who is silent as to the valour of others is a
thief and a robber.’