“‘Is there—is there a carriage?’ he whispered in my ear.
“I looked across the field and saw on the road a carriage waiting.
“‘Yes,’ I said.
“I stopped, and tried to take his arm from mine.
“‘Go,’ I said. ‘Go on!’
“‘I can’t. Come with me, Father.’
“We went on in the blinding sun. I looked down on the dry earth as I walked. Presently I saw at my feet the white dust of the road. At the same time I heard a woman’s cry. The stranger took his arm violently from mine.
“‘Father,’ he said. ‘Good-bye—God bless you!’
“He was gone. I stood there. In a moment I heard a roll of wheels. Then I looked up. I saw a man and a woman together, Domini. Their faces were like angels’ faces—with happiness. The dust flew up in the sunshine. The wheels died away—I was alone.
“Presently—I think after a very long time—I turned and went back to the monastery. Domini, that night I left the monastery. I was as one mad. The wish to live had given place to the determination to live. I thought of nothing else. In the chapel that evening I heard nothing—I did not see the monks. I did not attempt to pray, for I knew that I was going. To go was an easy matter for me. I slept alone in the hotellerie, of which I had the key. When it was night I unlocked the door. I walked to the cemetery—between the Stations of the Cross. Domini, I did not see them. In the cemetery was a ladder, as I told you.