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'Pro salute animae meae' was, I am reminded, the consideration usually expressed in the old charters of manumission. One of the unfortunate effects of this passion for building costly churches is the importation of quantities of foreign art-work in the shape of woodcarvings, stained glass, mosaics, and metal work. To good foreign art, indeed, one could not, within certain limits, object.
He fell away into meditation, mournful as it was indefinite, while the classic lament of another age and race formed itself silently upon his lips. "Comprehenderunt me iniquitates meae, et non potui ut viderem. Multiplicatae sunt super capillos capitis mei; et cor meum dereliquit me," he quoted, in the plenitude of his existing discouragement.
This passage could not have been in the first Life; for that was written before she had ever been Prioress. Job. iv. 15: "Inhorruerunt pili carnis meae." John of the Cross. See ch. xxix. See ch. xx. section 21. Section 9, supra. Section 10. Psalm ci. 8: "I have watched, and become as a sparrow alone on the house-top." Psalm xli. 4: "Ubi est Deus tuus?"
Meanwhile his Majesty grew more and more gracious, looking now on her and now on the carmen, and nodded with especial kindness towards the end, which was as follows: Tempus erit, quo tu reversus ab hostibus ultor Intrabis patriae libera regna meae; Tunc meliora student nostrae tibi carmina musae, Tunc tua, maxime rex, Martia facta canam.
For a few minutes he occupied himself in reading the motto cut over the entrance, Secretum meum mihi et filiis domus meae, and in trying to recollect the source of it. Then he became impatient and considered the possibility of scaling the wall. This was clearly not worth while; it might have been done if he had been wearing an older suit: or could the padlock a very old one be forced?
If that is so, join a party like that and live carefully. Good-bye. Your mother sends her love. Your affectionate father, John Amorbach. Bruno, satis admirari non possum quid agas vt tot pecunias consumas. Consumimus omnes de capitali. Habeo prouidere domui meae. No answer came back, and on 18 August John Amorbach wrote again.
I was so grown and accustomed to be always his double in all places and in all things, that methinks I am no more than half of myself: "Illam meae si partem anima tulit Maturior vis, quid moror altera? Nec carus aeque, nec superstes Integer? Ille dies utramque Duxit ruinam." What is left is not so dear, nor an entire thing: this day has wrought the destruction of both."
Volo quoque vernas qui domi meae sunt, omnes a praetore urbano liberos, cum matribus dimitti, singulisque libram argenti puri, et vestem unam dori. In Lusitania. In agro VIII. Cal Quintilis, bello viriatino."
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