At first received at the monastery with unconcealed aversion, and not without danger to himself, he had at last won to him the fanatical monks, who, in spirit, kept this ancient foundation as rigid to their faith as though it were in mediaeval times.

And though their discipline was lax, and their daily duties orderless, this was Oriental rather than degenerate.

Here Ebn Ezra had stayed for weeks at a time in the past, not without some religious scandal, long since forgotten.
His prayers ended, he rose up slowly, once more spread out his hands in ascription, and was about to enter the monastery, when, glancing towards the west, he saw a horseman approaching.

An instinct told him who it was before he could clearly distinguish the figure, and his face lighted with a gentle and expectant smile.

Then his look changed.
"He is in trouble," he murmured.