‘Who is it that has wronged you so cruelly?’
‘My father.’
‘Your own father?’
‘Yes, and my relations and friends.’
‘There are also many things connected with the world with which your heart is still occupied, and on which your thoughts dwell, instead of being engaged in prayer and fasting.’
‘No; there is nothing in the world in which I have lived that I look for. All is hidden, forgotten, buried and lost.’
‘But it has left behind bitterness in your feelings. Have you never loved—loved some woman?’
‘Certainly,’ exclaimed Ambrose, and he thereupon turned paler than ever. There suddenly arose from the innermost recess of his soul a form so lifelike, as it stood before him, that he covered his face with his hands and fell on his knees, and laid his head on the old man’s lap, while he slowly muttered the name ‘Annita, Annita.’
The old man allowed him to remain thus for a while, as he perceived that this strong man was weeping like a child. There must, then, as he had suspected, be events which had taken place in his earlier career which were now revived with painful vividness.
‘Brother,’ he said, ‘will you here, in the quiet of the night, open your heart to me, and tell me all about your previous career? I do not ask you from inquisitiveness, but tell me if you can; I will listen to you. You know that I am your friend. [[51]]Moreover, I have loved you, and will understand you, and sympathize with you.’