“It is a sin, and it is not a sin. I cannot resist it. It is stronger than I.”
“I will help you all I can.” The Dominé’s face grew very pitiful. “In most of our troubles men can help, God in all.”
“But I have proof,” cried Otto, hastily. “So much proof—too much proof. Only listen, father.”
He began speaking of his doubts, and the old man shrouded his face with one hand—his only one—white and transparent.
When Otto ceased speaking, a long silence ensued. At last the Dominé removed his hand, and Otto stared in horrified amazement. The minister’s clear face had become dark purple; veins stood out on his forehead which Otto had never perceived before. He began speaking, in a very low voice, but that voice also was new to the hearer:
“Go,” he said, “I have nothing to answer you.”
“But, father,” cried Otto, “speak to me. Pity me! For pity’s sake, don’t let me lose the only friend I have!”
The Dominé rose to his full height, in his long robes, pointing to the door.
“Go,” he repeated. “God forgive you. I cannot. Not at this moment. My Ursula! Go!”
And Otto, stalwart and sunburned, crouched to slink away.