"If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for
in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head."
Etienne now felt these coals of fire.
He was not all pride and cruelty. His education had made him what
he was, and probably, under the same circumstances, with such a
father and the training of a Norman castle, many of my young
readers who have detested his arrogance would have been like him,
more or less.
"Their lot forbids, nor circumscribes alone,
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confines."
But now the generosity which lay hidden deep in his heart was
awakened; the holy teachings which, in his childhood he had heard
at his mother's knee--a mother who, had she lived, might have
influenced his whole conduct--came back to him. There were many
pious mothers, after all, in Normandy. Pity they had not better
sons.
"Forgive us our trespasses."
The daily ministrations of the poor childless widow, whom he had
made childless, were a noble commentary on these words.
"Mother," he said, one day, "forgive me--I have much to be
forgiven--I cannot tell thee all."
"Nay, thou needst not; thou art forgiven for the love of Him who
has forgiven us all."
For a long time yet he lingered a prisoner on his couch; for fever
had so weakened him that he could hardly support his own weight.
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