Under the flickering spark the face of the abbot had at first flushed with anger and then grown ashen with vague, formless terror. He pushed the hood back from his head and pressed his fingers together until the jewelled ring cut into the flesh.
"You are a priest of God, consecrated for life. Consider the sin and folly of what you say. You have made no mistake. It would be too late to correct it, if you had."
"I shall do what I can to correct it as soon as possible. I shall leave the monastery to-night."
"To-night you confess what has led you to harbor this suggestion of Satan. To-night I forgive you. To-night you sleep once more at peace with the world and your own soul. Begin! Tell me everything that has happened—everything!"
"It were better untold. It could only pain—only shock you."
"Ha! You say this to me, who stand to you in God's stead?"
"Father Abbot, it is enough that Heaven should know my recent struggles and my present purposes. It does know them."
"And it has not smitten you? It is merciful."
"It is also just."
"Then do not deny the justice you receive. Did you not give yourself up to my guidance as a sheep to a shepherd? Am I not to watch near you in danger and lead you back when astray? Do you not realize that I may not make light of the souls committed to my charge, as my own soul shall be called into judgment at the last day? Am I to be pushed aside—made naught of—at such a moment as this?"