"Time--give me time, a respite," he groaned with pale lips, like a man condemned to death.
"Coward!" said Correntian contemptuously.
"No, do not call me so," cried the youth, striving to man himself. "Send me out into the wilderness to fight for my life with the snow-storm and wild beasts, or out to the land of the Saracens to shed my blood for our Mother Church. You will not see me tremble, but do not ask me to turn the knife against my own eyes; it is our strongest instinct to cherish them, even stronger than to preserve our life. For though I have often heard of men who plunged a dagger into their heart, I never heard of one who thrust it into his eyes. Correntian, have mercy. Grant me sight, to see--not the earth--but the heavens only, that eternal home for which we all strive. The wanderer, who is nearing his final rest, feels his strength revived as he sees the metal star that shines on the tower of his home, or the smoke that rises from the paternal roof, and he struggles with renewed vigour to reach the longed-for goal. How much more must we when we are weary, be refreshed by a glance upwards at the real stars, at the distant clouds which look down upon us from our Father's House. Who does not revive after such a prospect, and hasten joyfully forward? Grant me sight for that, and that only, it draws me on and upwards."
"Sensual fool," said Correntian smiling, "Do you think to reach Heaven by roads that are indicated by earthly light, do you believe that you will lose the way by not being able to see--as an earthly traveller might fail to find his home if he lost his eyes? It is from within and not from without that the light shines which must show you the path to Heaven, and the darker all is without, the brighter it is within; that path lies through earthly darkness. None have trodden it on whose eyes death has not first laid its black shroud; and do you not believe that the heavenly light which can irradiate the night of death can also illumine our deepest earthly darkness? Do you not believe that God the Lord is mighty to open in your soul a spiritual eye instead of the bodily eyes you sacrifice to Him, by which you may discern more and fairer things than any mortal yet has gazed on?"
"Oh Correntian--I do understand you--I admire you, but I cannot imitate you--not yet, not yet. If I could, then I should not be the sinner that I am, and you would not need to judge me. Give me time--for eternal mercy's sake which God himself shows to sinners--for Christ's blood sake which was shed in love for us--give me time."
"It is God that has spoken the sentence, not I--the execution of it is in your power, I have nothing farther to say," and Correntian rose. "Now leave me, for it is unlawful for us to remain any longer in secret conference--this is not the confessional."
The youth stood yet a moment before him, hesitating.
"Correntian--you despise me for not doing what the scripture commands?"
"What do you care whether I esteem you or not?"
"Everything--from this hour everything!" cried the youth passionately.