"I took another road."
"Have you never been acquainted with a monk from the convent there?"
"Never."
On receiving this answer, the judge rung the bell, and in a low voice gave an order to the attending officer.
Soon afterwards, an opposite door opened, and how was my whole frame shaken, and my very heart withered by terror, when I beheld the old Brother Cyrillus! The judge asked,
"Do you know this man?"
"No. I have never seen him before."
It was now the monk's turn to speak. He came nearer; looked at me stedfastly—then clasping his hands, while tears involuntarily burst from his eyes—"Medardus!" cried he, "Brother Medardus! In God's name, how comes it that I find you thus horribly changed? How came you into this condition of abandoned and obdurate wickedness? Brother Medardus, return into thyself—Confess—Repent!—The patience and long-suffering of God are infinite."
"Can you then recognize this man," said the judge, "for the Monk Medardus from the Capuchin Convent in Königswald?"
"As I hope for Heaven's mercy," answered Cyrillus, "it is impossible for me to think otherwise. I believe that this man, although he now appears in a lay dress, is that very Medardus, who lived under my care as a novice at the Capuchin Convent, and whom I attended at the altar on the day of his consecration. Yet Medardus had on his neck a scar, in the shape of a cross, on the left side, and if this man——"