Etienne left the roof, burning with indignation, suspecting some
trick to cheat him of his vengeance.
"Come into this cell," said the soft voice of Lanfranc.
Etienne obeyed.
There lay his young rival, cold and pale. Etienne doubted no
longer; death was too palpably stamped upon the face.
"Canst thou forgive now?" said Lanfranc. "His last message was one
of forgiveness for thee."
"I know not. An hour ago I thought no power on earth could make me;
but we have each suffered wrongs."
"Ye have."
"I do forgive, then; requiescat in pace."
"So shall it be well with thee before God," said the good prelate.
So Wilfred was buried in the vaults of St. Frideswide's church. The
Archbishop Lanfranc celebrated the funeral mass. It was noticed
with surprise that Bishop Geoffrey absented himself from the
function and the subsequent burial rites.
The week ended, as all weeks come to an end. Lanfranc had gone to
Canterbury. The Conqueror, assured by trusty reporters of the death
of Wilfred, rejoiced that so satisfactory an accident had befallen,
sparing all publicity and shame to one he could but admire, as he
ever admired pluck and devotion.
Geoffrey alone remained a guest at a monastic foundation hard by
St. Frideswide's.
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