The blind youth shook his head. "I have no father but the Abbot."
"Donatus!" shrieked the Count, "are you in your senses?" He turned to the Abbot, "If any earthly bond is still sacred in your eyes--tell him what a son owes to his father."
"Donatus," said the Abbot, "you are this man's son--it is to him that you owe your existence in the world! According to all human rights and duties you belong to him--according to the rights and duties of our Order you belong to us.--You are of age and free to choose--Choose."
All eyes were fixed on Donatus. He felt for the Abbot's hand, "My father," he said, "I can have but one choice; to live or die with you."
"Son, son!" cried Reichenberg. "Is all your nature subverted? Can you repel your real father for the sake of a stranger who did not beget you?"
"My Lord," said Donatus, "how can you say you are my father, when you have never dealt with me as a father? while these have treated me as you ought to have done. How can you talk to me and chide me for loving them and calling them father, when I have never known any other father?"
Reichenberg's eyes fell; "You speak the truth," he replied. "I have erred and sinned grievously towards you; an evil spirit possessed my senses--but of that God is the judge and not you. The children may not be their parents' judges, for the ties of blood are sacred and no law can tear them asunder."
"My lord, I am dedicated to Heaven--I recognise no ties of blood--"
"And is this the doctrine in which you have brought up my child? Almighty God! it would have been better for him if the wild beasts had devoured him! The son renounces his father who comes remorsefully to atone for his past crime. Oh! it is hideous, and I turn from you in horror! You are not men, you are stones--stones of that proud edifice under which the whole earth groans, and all wholesome life must perish.--And you, blind shade, out of which they have wrung the very blood and marrow, can you reconcile it to your creed of mercy to plunge a dagger in cold blood into the heart of a father who opens his arms to you with eager longing, and cries for atonement as a hart for the water-brooks,--to renounce him when he would fain lead you home under the roof of your ancestors?"
Donatus drew himself up; his father quailed before him.