And for two days he had endured the torments of hell-fire, battling against himself—in vain. The heavy lines beneath his eyes grew blacker than the night, his lips were pale with agony and fasting. He had not dared to speak to anyone, he could not tell them, and in him was the impulse to shout out, 'Why should there be?' Now he could bear it no longer. In the morning he went to the prior's cell, and, falling on his knees, buried his face in the old man's lap.
'Oh, father, help me! help me!'
The prior was old and wasted; for fifty years he had lived in the desert Castilian plain in the little monastery—all through his youth and manhood, through his age; and now he was older than anyone at San Lucido. White haired and wrinkled, but with a clear, rosy skin like a boy's; his soft blue eyes had shone with light, but a cataract had developed, and gradually his sight had left him till he could barely see the crucifix in his cell and the fingers of his hand; at last he could only see the light. But the prior did not lose the beautiful serenity of his life; he was always happy and kind; and feeling that his death could not now be very distant, he was filled with a heavenly joy that he would shortly see the face of God. Long hours he sat in his chair looking at the light with an indescribably charming smile hovering on his lips.
His voice broken by sobs, Brother Jasper told his story, while the prior gently stroked the young man's hands and face.
'Oh, father, make me believe!'
'One cannot force one's faith, my dear. It comes, it goes, and no man knows the wherefore. Faith does not come from reasoning; it comes from God.... Pray for it and rest in peace.'
'I want to believe so earnestly. I am so unhappy!'
'You are not the only one who has been tried, my son. Others have doubted before you and have been saved.'
'But if I died to-night—I should die in mortal sin.'
'Believe that God counts the attempt as worthy as the achievement.'