His heart deteriorated along with his morals, and he no longer had patience for his art, as the habits of pleasure grew on him.
Then life itself became intolerable to Gerard, and one night, in resolute despair, he flung himself into the river. But he was not allowed to drown, and was carried, all unconscious, to the Dominican convent. Gerard awoke to find Father Jerome by his bedside.
"Good Father Jerome, how came I hither?" he inquired.
"By the hand of Heaven! You flung away God's gift. He bestowed it on you again. Think of it! Hast tried the world and found its gall. Now try the Church! The Church is peace. Pax vobiscum!"
Gerard learnt that the man who had saved him from drowning was a professional assassin.
Saved from death by an assassin!
Was not this the finger of Heaven--of that Heaven he had insulted, cursed, and defied?
He shuddered at his blasphemies. He tried to pray, but found he could only utter prayers, and could not pray.
"I am doomed eternally!" he cried. "Doomed, doomed!" Then rose the voices of the choir chanting a full service. Among them was one that seemed to hover above the others--a sweet boy's voice, full, pure, angelic.
He closed his eyes and listened. The days of his own boyhood flowed back upon him.