A STORY OF ST. LOUIS IX.

New Zealand Tablet, 20 March 1913, Page 61

A STORY OF ST. LOUIS IX.

A little outside Paris, in the valley of Feuillancourt, stood the fine old castle of Bouret where the childhood of St. Louis, King of France, was passed. One day, when the young king was about fourteen, he returned from the chase. He was alone, and simply dressed, as was his custom; he was tall for his age, his hair was fair, he was sturdy and finely built. On the road he noticed an old man lying quite overcome with illness. He went to him and found he was too ill to rise even with his help. At that moment two peasants came by, jogging wearily along. They had come from a distance and were tired. Louis called out to the one nearest to him. The fellow stopped and asked sulkily what he wanted. ‘ Come and help me with this poor old man,’ he said. x Leave him alone,’ the man answered; ‘let him get up if he can; if he can’t, he had better lie there. What is the use of his living, if he is good for nothing.’ Young Louis was so angry that he rushed at the peasant. But the fellow’s travelling companion stopped him. ‘ I say,’ he cried, ‘ just you join mercy and charity together. You must pardon as well as nurse. Let the fellow go. He is tired and will be sorry for his uncouthness before he is much older.’ Well,’ said the king, ‘ you have spoken like a wise man. But will you come and help me to bring this poor man to my house?’ * & Yes, I will help you; perhaps I had better bring him along with me to my own home.’ But, looking down at the boy’s dress, he added— ‘ Most likely you can make him more comfortable than I can. Do you live-far from here?’ J

' Not far; just up the road,' said Louis. They trudged on, carrying the exhausted man between them. Louis took the road to the castle. When they stood before the gates, his companion asked in an awed whisper whether he belonged to the household of the king. ' Yes,' said the boy, shortly. He blew his horn. In a moment, men-at-arms, soldiers, valets, were streaming out of the gates, and not far behind

came the queen-mother, Blanche of Castile, herself. The peasant looked on amazed. But when Blanche accosted the boy as son,’ the old man fell on his knee, and did homage. Louis then asked him all about himself. He was a freeman on the estate, he said; he had lived there with his family all his married life, in the cottage which had belonged to men of his ' name for many a decade. Thereupon Louis invited him to come next day to the castle and be his guest with all his family. The next day <at sunrise there came to the castle John Bxenvenu, his father, mother, uncle, and aunt; his three brothers and two sisters; his eight children—tots of all ages and sizes. They were smartly ; dressed in holiday garments, and all stood in a row according to height to await the entry of their royal host. ; Such a table was spread for them! , Such gamesL Such presents as were arranged for them! Before parting it was planned that the aunt and one daughter should remain behind to tend the sick man, who had been comfortably lodged in the castle. But the king’s generosity was still not satisfied. Tell me, said he to the peasant, ‘what would you like most in the world?’ We are millers, sir,’ said the father, speaking in the name of all; ‘ and there is nothing we love better than a good mill and a brisk trade.’ ‘A-very wise answer,’ said Louis, and he ordered a parchment to be made out appointing the Bienvenu family royal millers of Feuillancourt, with a donation or land and money to enable them to erect six wind and water mills. ...... Fifty years ago some of these mills could still be seen m the neighborhood of Bouret; the others had been pulled down to make way for manufactories. Louis, who was just as wise as charitable, found out the name of the peasant who had refused his help, ten years later, as he was sitting in his court of justice, under a . spreading tree in the open air, there. came before him a poor, wasted old man. The king asked him what complaint he wished to lodge. The man answered that he was there to accuse his two Sons of ingratitude and neglect; they left him without food or clothing and he was unable to procure anything for nuns elf. ‘ I am old and stumble at every step; I should he like a log on the road were it not for the charity or those who pass by the way.’ ‘ What is your name?’ asked Louis. My name is William Boursy,’ the man answered. The king started. He reflected a moment, and then said,as one passing a judgment• ; Let him lie there. What is the good of his living if he is good for nothing?’ 5 The petitioner looked at the face of the king and trembled. ' He remembered his own cruel words, and remorse entered his soul. He said not a word in his own defence. - But the king had learnt the lesson of mercy, too. ‘Ah, now you remember the boy you met on the road to Bouret! You remember your selfish conduct. We will do better for you than that. I will lodge you m one of,the cottages on my land, and your sons shall provide you with the necessaries of life. Ask pardon of God, and go. You have mine.’ The peasant ended his life beneath the towers of Bouret Castle.