“Do you ask me? you! And who more than yourself has felt his presence? Do you not now feel him in your heart, disturbing, agitating you, not leaving you a moment of repose, and at the same time drawing you towards him, and imparting a hope of tranquillity and of consolation; of consolation which shall be full and unlimited, as soon as you acknowledge Him, confess your sins, and implore his mercy!”
“Oh! yes, yes; something indeed oppresses, something consumes me. But God—if it be God, if it be He, of whom you speak, what can he do with me?”
These words were uttered in a tone of despair; but Frederick calmly and solemnly replied, “What can God do with you? Through you he can exhibit his power and goodness. He would draw from you a glory, which none other could render him; you, against whom, the cries of the world have been for so long a time raised—you, whose deeds are detested——” (The Unknown started at this unaccustomed language, but was astonished to find that it excited no anger in his bosom, but rather communicated to it a degree of alleviation.) “What glory,” pursued Frederick, “will accrue to God? A general cry of supplication has risen against you before his throne; among your accusers, some no doubt have been stimulated by jealousy of the power you have exercised; but more, by the deplorable security of your own heart, which has endured until this day. But, when you yourself shall rise to condemn your life, and become your own accuser, then, oh! then, God will be glorified! And you ask what he can do with you? What am I, feeble mortal! that I should presume to tell you what are his designs respecting you; what he will do with this impetuous will, and imperturbable constancy, when he shall have animated and warmed it with love, hope, and repentance? Who are you, feeble mortal, that you should think yourself able to execute and imagine greater things for the promotion of evil and vice, than God can make you accomplish for that of good and virtue? What can God do with you? Forgive you! save you! accomplish in you the work of redemption! Are not these things worthy of him? Oh! speak. If I, an humble creature—I, so miserable, and nevertheless so full of myself—I, such as I am,—if I so rejoice at your salvation, that to assure it, I would joyfully give (God is my witness) the few years that remain to me in life, Oh! think! what must be the love of Him who inspires me with the thought, and commands me to regard you with such devotion as this!”
The countenance and manner of Frederick breathed celestial purity and love, in accordance with the vows which came from his mouth. The Unknown felt the stormy emotions of his soul gradually calming under such heavenly influence, and giving place to sentiments of deep and profound interest. His eyes, which from infancy “had been unused to tears, became swoln;” and burying his face in his hands, he wept the reply he could not utter.
“Great and good God!” cried Frederick, raising his hands and eyes to heaven, “what have I ever done—I, thy unprofitable servant—that thou shouldst have invited me to this banquet of thy grace,—that thou shouldst have thought me worthy of being thy instrument to the accomplishment of such a miracle!” So saying, he extended his hand to take that of the Unknown.
“No!” cried he; “no! Approach me not! Pollute not that innocent and beneficent hand! You know not what deeds have been committed by the hand you would place within your own!”
“Suffer,” said Frederick, taking it with gentle violence,—“suffer me to clasp this hand, which is about to repair so many wrongs, to scatter so many blessings; which will comfort so many who are in affliction, which will offer itself, peaceably and humbly, to so many enemies.”
“It is too much,” said the Unknown, sobbing aloud; “leave me, my lord! good Frederick! leave me! Crowds eagerly await your presence, among whom are pure and innocent souls, who have come from far to see and hear you, and you remain here to converse——with whom?”
“We will leave the ninety and nine sheep,” replied the cardinal; “they are in safety on the mountain. I must now remain with the one which was lost. These people are perhaps now more satisfied than if they had the poor bishop with them; perhaps God, who has visited you with the riches and wonders of his grace, may even now be filling their hearts with a joy, of which they divine not the cause; perhaps they are united to us without knowing it; perhaps the Holy Spirit animates their hearts with the fervour of charity and benevolence; inspires them with a spirit of prayer; with, on your account, a spirit of thanksgiving of which you are the unknown object.”
So saying, he passed his arm around the neck of the Unknown, who, after resisting a moment, yielded, quite vanquished by this impulse of kindness, and fell on the neck of the cardinal, in an agony of repentance. His burning tears dropped on the stainless purple of Frederick, and the pure hands of the bishop were clasped affectionately around him, who had hitherto been only habituated to deeds of violence and treachery.