The monk regarded him quizzically.
"The lust of the eye is mighty and the fever of the world still burns in your veins, my son, rebelling against the passion that chastens and purifies. Nevertheless, the Church desires no enforced service. She wishes to be served through love, not with aversion and fear. Continue to do penance, implore His forgiveness, and that He may take from you this worldly desire."
Kissing anew the hand which the monk extended, Tristan arose, after Odo had made upon him the holy sign.
"I shall obey your behest," he said in a low, broken voice, then withdrew, while the Monk of Cluny returned to his former pursuit, unconscious that another had witnessed and overheard the strange confession from a recess in the wall.
As one in a trance Tristan left the Monk of Cluny, his heart filled with gratitude for the man who, in the midst of a world of strife and unrest, had listened to his tale and had not dealt harshly with him, but had received him sympathetically, even while rebuking the offence. While the penances imposed upon him were not severe, Tristan chafed nevertheless under the restraint they laid upon his soul.
What was his future life to be? What new vistas would open before him? What new impressions would superimpose themselves upon the memories of the past—the memory of Hellayne?
As he passed the church of Santa Maria of the Aventine, Tristan saw the portals open. Puzzled over the problems he was face in the days to come, he entered the dim shadows of the sanctuary.
All that night Tristan knelt in solitary prayer.
The great church was empty and silent, unlit save for the lamp upon the altar. There Tristan kept his vigil, his tired, tearful eyes upon the crucifixion, searching his own heart.
The night of silence brought him no vision and shed no light upon his path. The pale dawn found him still upon his knees before the altar, his eyes upon the drooping form of the crucified Christ.