Here for two years I remained, the world believing that I was dead.

None knew that the troubadour whose love had cost the lady her life, who had slain the guest of her father, and had then disappeared, was the unhappy son of that guest.

My friends in Paris when they heard of the tragedy of course associated it with me, but they all kept silent.

The monks, to whom I confessed the whole story, were shocked indeed, but consoled me in my grief and despair by the assurance that however greatly I had sinned, the death of the lady had been accidental, and that if I were a parricide it was at least unintentionally.
"My repentance was deep and sincere; and after a while, under another name, I joined the army of the crusaders, to expiate my sin by warring for the holy sepulchre.

I fought as men fight who have no wish to live; but while all around me fell by sword and disease, death kept aloof from me.