At last, however, I succeeded so far, that I could, at least in presence of the Prior and the monks, moderate the ebullitions of my (to them) unaccountable delirium. I could appear more tranquil; yet, by this means, my inward agitations were only the more wasting and destructive. No slumber, no rest by night or by day! Incessantly persecuted and tormented by one and the same phantom, I passed, especially the night, always in intolerable conflicts. I called, severally, on all the Saints; but not to rescue me from the seductive image by which I was beset—not to save my soul from eternal misery—No! but to bestow on me the object of my affections—to annihilate my vows, and to give me freedom, that I might, without double guilt, fall into the abyss of sin.
At last, I had firmly resolved, that I would make an end of my torments, by a sudden flight from the convent. For, by some strange hallucination, nothing more than freedom from my monastic engagements seemed to me necessary to bring the unknown within my arms, and to put an end to the passions by which I was tormented.
I resolved that, having disguised my appearance sufficiently by cutting off my long beard, and assuming a lay dress, I would linger and wander about in the town till I had found her. I never once took into consideration how difficult, nay, how impossible, this would prove, or that, perhaps, having no money, I would not be able to live for a single day beyond the walls of the monastery.
The last day that I intended to spend among the capuchins had now arrived. By a lucky chance, I had been able to obtain a genteel dress, like that of an ordinary citizen. On the following night, I was resolved to leave the convent, never more to return.
Evening had already closed in, when, suddenly, I received from the Prior a summons to attend him. I trembled involuntarily at the message; for nothing appeared to me more certain, than that he had discovered more or less of my secret plans.
Leonardus received me with unusual gravity—nay, with an imposing dignity of demeanour, by which I was quite overawed.
"Brother Medardus," he began, "your unreasonable behaviour, which I look upon only as the too powerful ebullition of mental excitement, (but which excitement you have for a long time, perhaps not with the purest intentions, sought to foster,)—this behaviour, I say, has utterly disturbed our community, and torn asunder those peaceful bands by which the society was here united. Such conduct operates in the most destructive manner against that cheerfulness and good humour which, till now, I had successfully striven to establish among the monks, as the surest proof and demonstration of a consistent and pious life.