“‘Tell me the truth, please. I’m going to die, am I not?’
“The young monk was silent.
“‘I know it,’ said the swineherd sadly. ‘I feel it now.’
“Brother Anselm looked at him sadly for a few minutes and then said to him:—
“‘I must not deceive you at such a time—yes; but one thing might save your life.’
“‘What is that?’ cried the poor fellow eagerly; and he told him as gently as he could of the great operation, expecting to see the patient shudder and turn faint.
“‘Well,’ he said, when the monk had ended, ‘why don’t you do it?’
“‘But would you rather suffer that—would you run the risk?’
“‘Am I not a man?’ said the poor fellow calmly. ‘Yes: life is very sweet, and I would bear any pain that I might live.’
“That settled the matter, and the monk went out of the cell to shut himself up in his own and pray for the space of two hours, and the old monks said that it was all talk, and that he had given up his horrible idea; but the prior knew better, and he was not a bit surprised to see Anselm coming out of his cell looking brave, and calm, and cool.