HEinONK 
 AND Ttt£ 
 
 DAUGttTm 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
Z'/^^*' 
 
 DUKl; 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Treasure %oom 
 
WALTER D, FOX, 
 
 PRIVATiy^IB^ARY. 
 
 '.O.r.L.Kf., 
 
THE MONK AND THE 
 HANGMAN'S DAUGHTER 
 
Digitized by tine Internet Archive 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 Duke University Libraries 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/monkhangmansdaug01bier 
 
I shall suuti he ivilh her. PraUc ha to God! 
 
q^HE MONK AND THE 
 i HANGMAN'S DAUGHTER 
 
 BY AMBROSE BIERCE AND 
 GUSTAV ADOLPH DANZIGER 
 ILLUSTRATED BY THEODOR HAMPE 
 
 F. T SCHULTE & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS . CHICAGO . MDCCCXCII 
 
Copyright, 1891, 
 
 By G. a. DANZIGER. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 

 To 
 
 J. D. ARNOLD, M. D.. 
 
 In token of the respect and esteem in which he is held by 
 
 THE AUTHORS OF THIS BOOK. 
 
The foundation of this narrative is an old 
 manuscript originally helonging to the Fran- 
 ciscan monastery at Berchtesgaden, Bavaria. 
 The manuscript was obtained from a 2jeasanf 
 by Ilerr Richard Voss, of Heidelberg , from, 
 whose German version this is an adaptation. 
 
 D. and B. 
 

 THE MONK AND THE HANGMAN'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 I. 
 
 ^-*N the first day of May in the 
 year of our Blessed Lord 
 1G80, the Franciscan monks 
 iEgidius, Romanus and Am- 
 brosius were sent by tlieir 
 Snperior from the Christian 
 'city of Passau to the Monas- 
 tery of Berchtesgaden, near Salzburg. I, Ambro- 
 sius, was the strongest and youngest of the three, 
 being but twenty-one years of age. 
 
 The Monastery of Berchtesgaden Avas, we kuew, 
 in a wild and mouutainous country, covered with 
 dismal forests, which were infested with bears and 
 evil spirits; and our hearts were filled with sad- 
 ness to think what might become of us in so dread- 
 ful a j)lace. But since it is Christian duty to obey 
 the mandates of the Church, we did not complain, 
 and were even glad to serve the wish of our 
 beloved and revered Superior. 
 
anti tl)c 
 ?»anaman'3 Having received the benediction, and prayed for 
 33auatter ^^^^ ^'^^^ time in the church of our Saint, we tied 
 up our cowls, put new soles upon our feet, and set 
 out, attended by the blessings of all. Although 
 the way was long and perilous, we did not lose our 
 hope, for hope is not only the beginning and the 
 end of religion, but also the strength of youth and 
 the sujiport of age. Therefore our hearts soon 
 forgot the sadness of parting, and rejoiced in the 
 new and varying scenes that gave us our first real 
 knowledge of the beauty of the earth as God has 
 made it. The color and brilliance of the air were 
 like the garment of the Blessed Virgin ; the sun 
 shone like the (J olden Heart of the Savior, from 
 which streameth light and life for all mankind ; 
 the dark blue canopy that hung above formed a 
 grand and beautiful house of prayer, in which every 
 blade of grass, every flower and living creature 
 praised the glory of God. 
 
 As we passed through the many hamlets, vil- 
 lages and cities that lay along our way, the thou- 
 sands of peo];)le, busy in all the vocations of life, 
 presented to us jioor monks a new and strange 
 spectacle, which filled us with wonder and admira- 
 tion. When so many churches came into view 
 as we journeyed on, and the piety and ardor of 
 
11 2r!)c J«onft 
 
 ana tl)e 
 
 the people were made manifest by the acclama- 
 tions with which they hailed us and their alacrity 
 in administering to our needs, our hearts were full 
 of gratitude and happiness. All the institutions 
 of the Church were prosperous and wealthy, which 
 showed that they had found favor in the siglit of 
 the good God whom we serve. The gardens and 
 orchards of the monasteries and convents were well 
 kept, proving the care and industry of the pious 
 peasantry and the holy inmates of the cloisters. 
 It was glorious to hear the peals of bells announc- 
 ing the hours of the day : we actually breathed 
 music in the air — the sweet tones were like the 
 notes of angels singing praise to the Lord. 
 
 Wherever we went we greeted the people in the 
 name of our patron Saint. On all sides were 
 manifcot humility and joy : women and children 
 hastened to the wayside, crowding about us to kiss 
 our hands and beseech a blessing. It almost 
 seemed as if we M'cre no longer poor servitors of 
 God and man, but lords and masters of this whole 
 beautiful earth. Let us, however, not grow proud 
 in spirit, but remain humble, looking carefully 
 into our hearts lest we deviate from the rules of 
 our holy Order and sin against our blessed Saint. 
 
 Jljanflmaix'a 
 2JBnual)t«:. 
 
Cte ifaonk 12 
 
 anO tt)e 
 
 Jj^anflman's 
 30aufli)ta;. 
 
 I, Brother Ambrosius, confess Avitli penitence 
 and shame that my soul caught itself uj)on ex- 
 ceedingly Avorldly and sinful thoughts. It seemed 
 to me that the women sought more eagerly to kiss 
 my hands than those of my companions — which 
 surely was not right, since I am not more holy 
 than they ; besides, am younger and less experienced 
 and tried in the fear and commandments of the 
 Lord. When I observed this error of the "women, 
 and saw how the maidens kept their eyes upon me, 
 I became frightened, and wondered if I could 
 resist should temptation accost me ; and often I 
 thought, with fear and trembling, that vows and 
 prayer and penance alone do not make one a saint ; 
 one must bo so pure in heart that temptation is 
 unknown. Ah me ! 
 
 At night we always lodged in some monastery, 
 invariably receiving a pleasant welcome. Plenty 
 of food and drink was set before us, and as we sat 
 at table the monks would crowd about, asking for 
 news of the great world of which it Avas our 
 blessed privilege to see and learn so much. When 
 our destination was learned we were usually pitied 
 for being doomed to live in the mountain wilder- 
 ness. We were told of ice-fields, snow-crowned 
 mountains and tremendous rocks, roaring torrents. 
 
13 E\)e i«onft 
 
 caves and gloomy forests ; also of a lake so mys- ^" ^^ 
 terious and terrible that there was none like it in «''"-2^"^'^ ® 
 the world. God be with us ! BauflDtet. 
 
 On the fifth day of our journey, while but a 
 short distance beyond the city of Salzburg, we 
 saw a strange and ominous sight. On the horizon, 
 directly in our front, lay a bank of mighty clouds, . ■ 
 with many gray points and patches of darker hue, 
 and above, between them and the blue sky, a second 
 firmament of perfect white. This spectacle greatly 
 puzzled and alarmed us. The clouds had no 
 movement ; we watched them for hours and could 
 see no change. Later in the afternoon, when the 
 sun was sinking into the west, they became ablaze 
 with light. They glowed and gleamed in a wonder- 
 ful manner, and looked at times as if they were on 
 fire ! 
 
 No one can imagine our surprise when we dis- 
 covered that what we had mistaken for clouds 
 were simply earth and rock. These, then, Avere 
 the mountains of which we had heard so much, 
 and the white firmament was nothing else than 
 the snowy summit of the range — Avhich the 
 Lutherans say their faith can remove. I greatly 
 doubt it. 
 
II. 
 
 HEX we stood at the opening 
 of the pass leading into the 
 mountains we were overcome 
 with dejection ; it looked 
 like the mouth of Hell. 
 Behind us lay the beautiful 
 country through which we 
 had come, and which now we were compelled to 
 leave forever ; before us frowned the mountains 
 with their inhospitable gorges and haunted forests, 
 forbidding to the sight and full of peril to the 
 body and the soul. Strengthening our hearts 
 with prayer and whispering anathemas against 
 evil spirits, we entered the narrow pass in the 
 name of God, and pressed forward, prepared to 
 suffer whatever might befall. 
 
 As we proceeded cautiously on our way giant 
 trees barred our progress and dense foliage almost 
 shut out the light of day, the darkness being deep 
 and chill. The sound of our footfalls and of our 
 voices, when we dared to speak, was returned to us 
 
 15 
 
E\)t i«onft 16 
 
 anU tte 
 
 JQanjjman's 
 33auiitt«. 
 
 from the great rocks bordering tlie jiass, with such 
 distinctness and so many repetitions, yet withal so 
 changed, that we could hardly believe we were not 
 accompanied by troops of invisible beings Avho 
 mocked us and made a sport of our fears. Great 
 birds of prey, startled from their nests in the tree- 
 tops and the sides of the cliffs, perched upon high 
 pinnacles of rock and eyed us malignly as we 
 passed ; vultures and ravens croaked above us in 
 hoarse and savage tones that made our blood run 
 cold. Nor could our prayers and hymns give us 
 peace ; they only called forth other fowl and by 
 their own echoes multiplied the dreadful noises 
 that beset us. It surprised us to observe that 
 huge trees had been plucked out of the earth by 
 the roots and hurled down the sides of the hills, 
 and we shuddered to think by what powerful 
 hands this had been done. At times we passed 
 along the edges of high precipices, and the dark 
 chasms that yawned below were a terrible sight. 
 A storm arose, and we were half-blinded by the 
 fires of heaven and stunned by thunder a thousand 
 times louder than we had ever heard. Our fears 
 were at last worked up to so great a degree that 
 we expected every minute to see some devil from 
 Hell leap from behind a rock in our front, or a, 
 
anO tijc 
 ferocious bear appear from the undergrowth to wanaman'a 
 dispute our progress. But only deer and foxes jjaunMct. 
 crossed our path, and our fears were somewhat 
 quieted to perceive that our blessed Saint was no 
 less powerful in the mountains than on the plains 
 below. 
 
 At length we reached the bank of a stream 
 whose silvery waters presented a most refreshing 
 sight. In its crystal depths between the rocks we 
 could see beautiful golden trout as large as the 
 carp in the pond of our monastery at Passau. 
 Even in these wild places Heaven had provided 
 bountifully for the fasting of the faithful. 
 
 Beneath the black pines and close to the large 
 lichen-covered rocks bloomed rare flowers of dark 
 blue and golden yellow. Brother ^gidius, who 
 was as learned as pious, knew them from his her- 
 barium and told us their names. We were 
 delighted by the sight of various brilliant beetles 
 and butterflies which had come out of their hiding- 
 places after the rain. We gathered handfuls of 
 flowers and chased the pretty winged insects, for- 
 getting our fears and prayers, the bears and evil 
 spirits, in the exuberance of our Jo3^ 
 
 For many hours we had not seen a dwelling nor 
 a human being. Deeper and deeper we penetrated 
 
Srte jaonfe 18 
 
 the mountain region ; greater and greater became 
 the difficulties we experienced in forest and ravine, 
 and all the horrors of the wilderness that we had 
 already passed were repeated, but without so great 
 an effect upon our souls, for we all perceived that 
 the good God was preserving us for longer service 
 to Ilis lioly will. A branch of the friendly river 
 lay in our course, and, approaching it, we were 
 delighted to find it spanned by a rough but sub- 
 stantial bridge. As we were about to cross I hap- 
 pened to cast my eyes to the other shore, where I 
 saw a sight that made my blood turn cold with 
 terror. On the opposite bank of the stream was 
 a meadow, covered with beautiful flowers, and in 
 the center a gallows upon which hung the body of 
 a man ! The face was turned toward us, and I 
 could plainly distinguish the features, which, 
 thougli black and distorted, showed unmistakable 
 signs that death had come that very day. 
 
 I was upon the point of directing my com- 
 panions' attention to the dreadful sj)ectacle, 
 when a strange incident occurred : on the 
 meadow appeared a young girl, with long 
 golden hair, upon which rested a wreath of 
 blossoms. 8he wore a bright red dress, which 
 seemed to me to light up the whole scene like 
 
1^ Ctje i«onfi: 
 
 a flame of fire. Nothing in her actions indi- ^"^ *^^ 
 cated fear of the corpse npon the gallows ; on ?9angtnan's 
 the contrary, she glided toward it barefooted 33au2i)ter, 
 through the grass, singing in a loud but sweet 
 voice, and waving her arms to scare away the 
 birds of prey that had gathered about it, utter- 
 ing harsh cries and with a great buffeting of 
 wings and snapping of beaks. At the girl's aja- 
 proach they all took flight, except one great 
 vulture, which retained its perch upon the gal- 
 lows and appeared to defy and threaten her. 
 She ran close up to the obscene creature, jump- 
 ing, dancing, screaming, until it, too, put out 
 its wide wings and flapped heavily away. Then 
 she ceased her dancing, and, taking a position 
 at the gibbet's foot, calmly and thoughtfully 
 looked up at the swinging body of the unfortu- 
 nate man. 
 
 The maiden's singing had attracted the atten- 
 tion of my companions, and we all stood watch- 
 ing the lovely child and her strange surroundings 
 with too much amazement to speak. 
 
 While gazing on the surprising scene, I felt a 
 cold shiver run through my body. This is said 
 to be a sure sign that some one has stepped 
 upon the spot which is to be your grave. 
 
mn m Strange to say, I felt tliis chill at the moment 
 J^anamnn's ^}^q maiden stei-)ped under the gallows. But 
 IDau2l)ter. -j^j^jg q-^\j gjjows how the true beliefs of men are 
 mixed up with foolish superstitions ; for how 
 could a sincere follower of Saint Franciscus pos- 
 sibly come to be buried beneath a gallows ? 
 
 "Let us hasten," I said to my companions, "and 
 pray for the soul of the dead." 
 
 We soon found our way to the spot, and, without 
 raising our eyes, said prayers with great fervor; 
 especially did I, for my heart was full of compas- 
 sion for the poor sinner Avho hung above. I recalled 
 the words of God, who said, "Vengeance is mine," 
 and remembered that the dear Savior had par- 
 doned the thief upon the cross at His side ; and who 
 knows that there were not mercy and forgiveness for 
 this poor wretch who had died upon the gallows ? 
 
 On our approach the maiden had retired a short 
 distance, not knowing what to make of us and our 
 prayers. Suddenly, however, in the midst of our de- 
 votions, I heard her sweet, bell-like tones exclaim : 
 " The vulture ! the vulture ! " aud her voice was 
 agitated, as if she felt great fear. I looked uji aud 
 saw a great gray bird above the pines, swooping 
 downward. It showed no fear of us, our sacred 
 calling and our pious rite§. My brothers, how- 
 
2-1 5Ct)c l^aonft 
 
 anti tte 
 ever, were indignant at the interruption caused by ^anflmcin's 
 the child's voice, and scolded her. But I said : jDaujjtter. 
 " The girl is probabl}^ a relation of the dead man. 
 Now think of it, brothers ; this terrible bird comes 
 to tear the flesh from his face and feed upon his 
 hands and his body. • It is only natural that she 
 should cry out." 
 
 One of the brothers said : " Go to her, Ambro- 
 sius, and command her to be silent that we may 
 pray in peace for the departed soul of this sinful 
 man." 
 
 I walked among the fragrant flowers to where 
 the girl stood with her eyes still fixed upon the 
 vulture, which swung in ever narrowing circles 
 about the gallows. Against a mass of silvery 
 flowers on a bush by which she stood the maid's 
 exquisite figure showed to advantage, as I wickedly 
 permitted myself to observe. Perfectly erect and 
 motionless, she watched my advance, though I 
 marked a terrified look in her large, dark eyes, as 
 if she feared that I would do her harm. Even 
 when I was quite near her she made no movement 
 to come forward, as women and children usually 
 did, and kiss my hands. 
 
 " Who are you ? " I said, " and what are you do- 
 ing in this dreadful place all alone ? " 
 
33aufll)ter. 
 
 Srte ifeionft 22 
 
 anil t\)e 
 
 She did not answer me, and made neither sign 
 
 nor motion ; so I repeated my question : 
 
 " Tell me, child, what are you doing here ? " 
 
 "Scaring away the vultures," she replied, in a 
 soft, musical voice, inexj)rcssibly pleasing. 
 
 " Are you a relation of the dead man ? " I asked. 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "You knew him ?" J continued, "and you ])\tj 
 his unchristian death ? " 
 
 But she was again silent, and I had to renew 
 my questioning : " What was his name, and why 
 was he put to death ? What crime did he 
 commit ? " 
 
 "His name was Nathaniel Alfinger, and he 
 killed a man for a woman," said the maiden, dis- 
 tinctly and in the most unconcerned manner that 
 it is possible to conceive, as if murder and hanging 
 were the commonest and most uninteresting of all 
 events. I was astounded, and gazed at her sharply, 
 but her look was passive and calm, denoting 
 nothing unusual. 
 
 "Did you know Nathaniel Alfinger ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Yet you came here to protect his corpse from 
 the fowls ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
"Till me, child, what are yoit doing here?' 
 
23 me morOi 
 
 ana tije 
 
 " Why do you do that service to one whom you 
 did not know ? " 
 
 " I always do so. " 
 
 "How !" 
 
 "Always when any one is hanged here I come 
 and frighten away the birds and make them find 
 other food. See — there is another vulture ! " 
 
 She uttered a wild, high scream, threw her arms 
 above her head, and ran across tlie meadow so that 
 I thought her mad. The big bird flew away, and 
 the maiden came quietly back to me, and, pressing 
 her sun-burnt hands upon her breast, sighed 
 deeply, as from fatigue. Witli as much mildness 
 as I could put into my voice, I asked her : 
 
 " What is your name ? " 
 
 "Benedicta." 
 
 " And who are your parents ? " 
 
 "My mother is dead." 
 
 " But your father — where is he ? " 
 
 She was silent. Then I pressed her to tell me 
 where she lived, for I wanted to take the poor 
 child home and admonish her father to have better 
 care of his daughter and not let her stray into 
 such dreadful places again. 
 
 " Where do you live, Benedicta ? I pray you 
 tell me." 
 
 jBlangntan's 
 3i9auBf)tet. 
 
anlr tl)e "Here." 
 ?t}anBman's u -yyj^^^ ; i^^^^ 9 Ah, my child, here is only the 
 JBaufltter. gallows." 
 
 She 23ointed toward the pines. Following the 
 direction of her finger, I saw among the trees a 
 wretched hut which looked like a habitation more 
 fit for animals than human beings. Then I knew 
 better than she could have told me whose child 
 she was. 
 
 When I returned to my companions and they 
 asked me wdio the girl was, I answered : " The 
 hangman's daughter." 
 
III. 
 
 >VvI)i\ AVING commended the soul 
 of tlie dead man to the in- 
 tercession of the Blessed 
 Virgin and the Holy Saints, 
 we left the accursed spot, 
 but as we withdrew I looked 
 back at the lovely child of the liangman. She 
 stood where I had left her, looking after us. Her 
 fair white brow was still crowned with the wreath 
 of primroses, which gave an added charm to her 
 wonderful beauty of feature and expression, and 
 her large, dark eyes shone like the stars of a winter 
 midnight. My companions, to whom the hang- 
 man's daughter was a most unchristian object, 
 reproved me for the interest that I manifested in 
 her ; but it made me sad to think this sweet 
 and beautiful child was shunned and despised 
 through no fault of her own. Why should she be 
 made to suffer blame because of her father's dread- 
 ful calling ? And was it not the purest Christian 
 charity which prompted this innocent maiden to 
 
 25 
 
SCjjc ittonfe "26 
 
 JIgangman's 
 JBauflljter. 
 
 keep the vultures from the body of a fellow- 
 creature whom in life she had not even known 
 and who had been adjudged unworthy to live ? 
 It seemed to me a more kindly act than that of 
 any professed Christian who bestows money upon 
 the poor. Expressing these feelings to my com- 
 panions, I found, to my sorrow, that they did not 
 share them ; on the contrary, I was called a 
 dreamer and a fool who wished to overthrow the 
 ancient and wholesome customs of the Avorld. 
 Every one, they said, was bound to execrate the 
 class to which the hangman and his family be- 
 longed, for all who associated with such people 
 would surely be contaminated. I had, however, 
 the temerity to remain steadfast in my conviction, 
 and with due humility questioned the justice of 
 treating such people as criminals, because they 
 were a part of the law's machinery by which crim- 
 inals were punished. Because in the church the 
 hangman and his family had a dark corner 
 specially set apart for them, that could not absolve 
 us from our duty as servants of the Lord to preach 
 the gospel of justice and mercy and give an 
 example of Christian love and charity. But my 
 brothers grew very angry with me, and the wilder- 
 ness rang with their loud vociferations, so that I 
 
27 5i:j)e ^onft 
 
 began to feel as if I were very wicked, although ^^ 
 
 unable to perceive my error. I could do nothing ™*'"3^"'"^ ^ 
 but hope that Heaven would be more merciful to *^^^S,Wv* 
 us all than we are to one another. In thinking of 
 the maiden it gave me comfort to know that her 
 name was Benedicta. Perhaps her parents had so 
 named her as a means of blessing one whom no 
 one else would ever bless. 
 
 But I must relate what a wonderful country it 
 was into Avhicli we were now arrived. Were we 
 not assured that all the world is the Lord's, for He 
 made it, we might be tempted to think such a wild 
 region the kingdom of the Evil One. 
 
 Far down below our path the river roared and 
 foamed between great clififs, the gray j)oints of 
 which seemed to pierce the very sky. On our left, 
 as we gradually rose out of this chasm, was a black 
 forest of pines, frightful to see, and in front of us 
 a most formidable peak. This mountain, despite 
 its terrors, had a comical appearance, for it was 
 white and pointed like a fool's cap, and looked as 
 if some one had put a flour-sack on the knave's 
 head. After all it was nothing but snow. Snov/ 
 in the middle of the glorious month of May ! — 
 surely the works of God are wonderful and almost 
 past belief ! The thought came to me that if this 
 
SClje ittonft 28 
 
 ^^ ^^ old mountain should shake his head the whole 
 jtjansma j-egion would be full of flying snow. 
 JDauflt) ex. y^j^ ^vere not a little surprised to find that in 
 various places along our road the forest had been 
 cleared away for a space large enough to build a 
 hut and plant a garden. Some of these rude 
 dwellings stood where one would have thought 
 that only eagles would have been bold enough to 
 build ; but there is no place, it seems, free from 
 the intrusion of Man, who stretches out his hand 
 for everything, even that which is in the air. 
 When at length we arrived at our destination and 
 beheld the temple and the house erected in this 
 wilderness to the name and glory of our beloved 
 Saint, our hearts were thrilled with pious emo- 
 tions. Upon the surface of a pine-covered rock 
 was a cluster of huts and houses, the monastery in 
 the midst, like a shepherd surrounded by his 
 flock. The church and monastery were of hewn 
 stone, of noble architecture, spacious and comfort- 
 able. 
 
 May the good Good bless our entrance into this 
 holy place. 
 
IV. 
 
 HAVE now been in this 
 wilderness for several 
 weeks, but the Lord, too, 
 is here, as everywliere. 
 My health is good, and this 
 house of our beloved Saint 
 is a stronghold of the 
 Faith, a house of peace, an asylum for those who 
 flee from the wrath of the Evil One, a rest for all 
 who bear the burden of sorrow. Of myself, how- 
 ever, I cannot say so much. I am young, and, 
 although my mind is at peace, I have so little ex- 
 perience of the world and its ways that I feel my- 
 self peculiarly liable to error and accessible to sin. 
 The course of my life is like a rivulet which draws 
 its silver thread smoothly and silently through 
 friendly fields and flowery meadows, yet knows 
 that when the storms come and the rains fall it 
 may become a raging torrent, defiled with earth 
 and whirling away to the sea the wreckage attest- 
 ing the madness of its passion and its power. 
 Not sorrow nor despair drew me away from the 
 
2rt)c p^onft 30 
 
 Jj^anfiman's 
 BauQttet. 
 
 world into the sacred retreat of the Church, but a 
 sincere desire to serve the Lord. My only wish is 
 to belong to my beloved Saint, to obey the blessed 
 mandates of the Church, and, as a servant of God, 
 to be charitable to all mankind, whom I dearly 
 love. The Church is, in truth, my beloved 
 mother, for, my parents having died in my 
 infancy I, too, might have perished without care 
 had she not taken pity on me, fed and clothed me 
 and reared me as her own child. And, oh, what 
 happiness there will be for me, poor monk, when 
 I am ordained and receive holy orders as a priest 
 of the Most High God ! Always I think and 
 dream of it and try to prepare my soul for that 
 high and sacred gift. I know I can never be 
 worthy of this great happiness, but I do hojie 
 to be an honest and sincere priest, serving God 
 and Man according to the light that is given from 
 above. I often pray Heaven to put me to the test 
 of temptation, that I may pass through the fire 
 unscathed and purified in mind and soul. As it 
 is, I feel the sovereign peace which, in this soli- 
 tude, lulls my spirit to sleep, and all life's tempta- 
 tions and trials seem far away, like perils of the 
 sea to one who can but faintly hear the distant 
 thunder of the waves upon the beach, 
 
V. 
 
 UR Superior, Father An- 
 dreas, is a mild and pious 
 gentleman. Our brothers 
 live in peace and harmony. 
 They are not idle, neither 
 are they worldly nor ar- 
 rogant. They are tem- 
 perate, not indulging too much in the j^leasures of 
 the table — a praiseworthy moderation, for all 
 this region, far and wide — the hills and the val- 
 leys, the river and forest, with all that they contain 
 — belongs to the monastery. The woods are full 
 of all kinds of game, of which the choicest is 
 brought to our table, and we relish it exceed- 
 ingly. In our monastery a drink is prejaared from 
 malt and barley — a strong, bitter drink, refresh- 
 ing after fatigue, but not, to my taste, very good. 
 The most remarkable thing in this part of the 
 country is the salt-mining. I am told that the 
 mountains are full of salt — how wonderful are 
 
 the works of the Lord ! In pursuit of this 
 31 
 
antr tf)e 
 
 Ji^anjiman's 
 
 Dau2|)tet. 
 
 32 
 
 miueral Man has penetrated deep into the howels 
 of the earth by means of shafts and tunnels, and 
 brings forth tlie bitter marrow of the hills into 
 the light of the sun. The salt I have mj'self seen 
 in red, brown and yellow crystals. The works 
 give employment to our peasants and their sons, 
 with a few foreign laborers, all under the com- 
 mand of an overseer, who is known as the Salt- 
 master. He is a stern man, exercising great 
 power, but our Superior and the brothers speak 
 little good of him — not from any unchristian 
 spirit, but because his actions are evil. The Salt- 
 master has an only son. His name is Rochus, a 
 handsome but wild and wicked youth. 
 
VI. 
 
 HE people hereabout are a 
 proud, stubborn race. I am 
 told that iu an old chronicle 
 they are described as de- 
 scendants of the Romans, 
 who in their day drove 
 many tunnels into these 
 mountains to get out the precious salt ; and some 
 of these tunnels are still in existence. From the 
 window of my cell I can see these giant hills and 
 the black forests which ,at sunset burn like great 
 fire-brands along the crests against the sky. 
 
 The forefathers of these people (after the 
 Romans) were, I am told, more stubborn still than 
 they are, and continued in idolatry after all the 
 neighboring peoples had accepted the cross of the 
 Lord our Savior. Now, however, they bow their 
 stiff necks to the sacred symbol and soften their 
 hearts to receive the living truth. Powerful as 
 they are in body, in spirit they are humble and 
 obedient to the Word. Nowhere else did the peo- 
 ple kiss my hand so fervently as here, although I 
 
 3 33 
 
an6 tfie ^^ ^^^ ^ priest — an evidence of tlie power and 
 ^anflman»« victory of our glorious faith. 
 JBauflliUt. Physically they are strong and exceedingly 
 handsome in face and figure, especially the young 
 men ; the elder men, too, walk as erect and proud, 
 as kings. The women have long golden hair, 
 which they braid and twist about their heads very 
 beautifully, and they love to adorn themselves 
 with jewels. Some have eyes whose dark bril- 
 liancy rivals the luster of the rubies and garnets 
 they wear about their Avhite necks. I am told, 
 that the young men fight for the young women 
 as stags for does. Ah, what wicked passions exist 
 in the hearts of men ! But since I know nothing 
 of these things, nor shall ever feel such unholy 
 emotions, I must not judge and condemn. 
 
 Lord, what a blessing is the peace with which 
 Thou hast filled the spirits of those who are Thine 
 own ! Behold, there is no turmoil in my breast : 
 all is calm there as in the soul of a babe which 
 calls "Abba," dear Father. And so may it ever 
 be. 
 
VII. 
 
 HAVE- again seen the hang- 
 man's beautiful daughter. 
 As the bells were chiming 
 for mass I saw her in front 
 of the monastery church. 
 I had just come from the 
 bedside of a sick man, and 
 as my thoughts were gloomy the sight of her face 
 was pleasant, and I should have liked to greet her, 
 but her eyes were cast down : she did not notice 
 me. The square in front of the church was filled 
 with people, the men and youths on one side, on 
 the other the women and maidens all clad in their 
 high hats and adorned with their gold chains. 
 They stood close together, but when the poor child 
 approached all stepped aside, whispering and look- 
 ing askance at her as if she were an accursed 
 leper and they feared infection. 
 
 Compassion filled my breast, compelling me to 
 follow the maiden, and, overtaking her, I said 
 aloud: " God greet you, Benedicta." 
 
 35 
 
ant) tt)e 
 
 JUganfiman's 
 
 9aus|)ter« 
 
 36 
 
 She shrank away as if frightened, then, looking 
 up, recognized me, seemed astonished, bhished 
 again and again, finally hung her head in silence. 
 
 " Do you fear to speak to me ? " I asked. 
 
 But she made no reply. Again I spoke to her : 
 " Do good, obey the Lord and fear no one : then 
 shall you be saved." 
 
 At this she drew a long sigh, and replied in a low 
 voice, hardly more than a whisper : " 1 thank you, 
 my lord." 
 
 "I am not a lord, Benedicta," I said, "but a 
 poor servant of God, who is a gracious and kind 
 Father to all His children, however lowly their 
 estate. Pray to Him when your heart is heavy, and 
 He will be near you." 
 
 While I spoke she lifted her head and looked at 
 me like a sad child that is being comforted by its 
 mother. And, still speaking to her out of the 
 great compassion in my heart, I led her into the 
 church before all the people. 
 
 But do thou, holy Franciscus, pardon the sin 
 that I committed during that high sacrament ! 
 For while Father Andreas was reciting the solemn 
 words of the mass my eyes constantly wandered to 
 the spot where the poor child knelt in a dark 
 corner set apart for her and her father, forsaken 
 
37 2C|)e IWonft 
 
 ana tjjje 
 
 and alone. She seemed to pray with holy zeal, 
 and surely thou didst grace her with a ray of thy 
 favor, for it was through thy love of mankind that 
 thou didst become a great saint, and didst bring 
 before the Throne of Grace thy large heart, bleed- 
 ing for tlie sins of all the world. Then shall not 
 I, the humblest of thy followers, have enough of 
 thy spirit to pity this poor outcast who suffers for 
 no sin of her own ? Nay, I feel for her a peculiar 
 tenderness, which I cannot help accepting as a 
 sign from Heaven that I am charged with a special 
 mandate to watch over her, to jirotect her, and 
 finally to save her soul. 
 
 jB^anaman'a 
 3Bausf)ter. 
 
VIII. 
 
 UR Superior has sent for 
 mc and rebuked me. He 
 told me I liad caused great 
 ill-feeling among the 
 brothers and the people, 
 and asked what devil had 
 me in possession that I 
 should walk into church with the daughter of the 
 public hangman. 
 
 What could I say but that I pitied the poor 
 maiden and could not do otherwise than as I 
 did? 
 
 " Why did you pity her ? " he asked. 
 "Because all the people shun her," I replied, 
 "as if she were mortal sin itself, and because she is 
 wholly blameless. It certainly is not her fault that 
 her father is a hangman, nor his either, since, alas, 
 hangmen must be." 
 
 Ah, beloved Franciscus, how the Superior 
 scolded thy poor servant for these bold words. 
 "And do you repent?" he demanded at the 
 
 39 
 
close of his reproof. But how could I repent 
 01 my compassion — incited, as 1 verily believe, 
 by onr beloved Saint ? 
 
 * On learning my obduracy, the Superior be- 
 came very sad. He gave me a long lecture and 
 put me under hard penance. I took my pun- 
 ishment meekly and in silence, and am now 
 confined in my cell, fasting and chastising my- 
 self. Nor in this do I spare myself at all, for 
 it is happiness to suffer for the sake of one so 
 unjustly treated as the poor friendless child. 
 
 I stand at the grating of my cell, looking out 
 at the dark, mysterious mountains showing 
 black against the evening sky. The weather 
 being mild, I open the window behind the bars 
 to admit the fresh air and better to hear the 
 song of the stream below, which speaks to me 
 with a divine companionship, gentle and con- 
 soling. 
 
 I know not if I have already mentioned that 
 the monastery is ])uilt upon a rock high over 
 the river. Directly under the windows of our 
 cells are the rugged edges of great cliffs, which 
 none can scale but at tlie peril of his life. 
 Imagine, then, my astonishment when I saw a 
 living figure lift itself up from the awful abyss 
 
The pnnr child hielt in a daik conitr. 
 
41 
 
 by the strength of its hands, and, drawing itself 
 across the edge, stand erect upon the very verge ! 
 In the dusk I could not make out what kind of 
 creature it was ; I thought it some evil spirit , 
 come to tempt me ; so I crossed myself and said 
 a prayer. Presently there is a movement of its 
 arm, and something flies through the window, 
 jjast my head, and lies ujoon the floor of my cell, 
 shiuing like a white star. I bend and pick it 
 up. It is a bunch of flowers such as I have 
 never seen — leafless, white as snow, soft as vel- 
 vet, and without fragrance. As I stand by the 
 window, the better to see the wondrous flowers, 
 my eyes turn again to the figure on the cliff, 
 and I hear a sweet, low voice, which says : " I 
 am Benedicta, and I thank you." 
 
 Ah, Heaven ! it was the child, who, that she 
 might greet me in my loneliness and penance, 
 had climbed the dreadful rocks, heedless of the 
 danger. She knew, then, of my punishment — 
 knew that it was for her. She knew even the 
 very cell in which I was confined. holy 
 Saint ! surely she could not have known all this 
 but from thee ; and I were worse than an infidel 
 to doubt that the feeling which I have for her 
 
 anir tje, 
 
 JIganuman's 
 
 3IDaust)ter. 
 
3Bau2l)ter. 
 
 etc J^onk 42 
 
 anil tj)e 
 
 _g signifies that a command has been laid upon me 
 
 to save her. 
 
 I saw her bending over the frightful precipice. 
 She turned a moment and waved her hand to me 
 and disappeared. I uttered an involuntary cry — 
 had she fallen ? I grasped the iron bars of my 
 window and shook them with all my strength, but 
 they did not yield. In my despair I threw myself 
 Upon the floor, crying and praying to all the saints 
 to protect the dear child in her dangerous descent 
 if still she lived, to iutercede for her unshriven 
 soul if she had fallen. I was still kneeling when 
 Benedicta gave me a sign of her safe arrival below. 
 It was such a shout as these mountaineers utter in 
 their untamed enjoyment of life — only Bene- 
 dicta's shout, coming from far below in the gorge, 
 and mingled with its own strange echoes, sounded 
 like nothing I had ever heard from any human 
 throat, and so affected me that I wept, and the 
 tears fell upon the wild flowers in my hands. 
 
IX. 
 
 S a follower of Saint Fran- 
 cisciis, I am not permitted 
 to own anything dear to my 
 heart, so I have disposed of 
 my most precious treasure ; 
 I have presented to my be- 
 loved Saint the beautiful 
 flowers which were Benedicta^s offering. They 
 are so placed before his picture in the monastery 
 church as to decorate the bleeding heart which he 
 carries uj^on his breast as a symbol of his suffering 
 for mankind. 
 
 I have learned the name of the flower : because 
 of its color, and because it is finer than other 
 flowers, it is called Edelweiss — noble white. It 
 grows in so rare perfection only wpon the highest 
 and wildest rocks — mostly upon cliffs, over 
 abysses many hundred feet in depth, where one 
 false step would be fatal to him who gathers it. 
 
 These beautiful flowers, then, are the real evil 
 spirits of this wild region : they lure many mortals 
 
 43 
 
ant) tl)e 
 
 _^ ,„ to a dreadful death. The brothers here have told 
 
 JS^attjjtnan's 
 
 _ . . me that never a year passes but some shejiherd, 
 some hunter or some bold youth, attracted by 
 these wonderful blossoms, is lost in the attempt to 
 get them. 
 
 May God be merciful to all their souls ! 
 
MUST have turned pale 
 when one of the brothers 
 rej^orted at the supper table 
 that a bunch of edelweiss 
 had been found upon the 
 picture of Saint Franciscus, 
 of such rare beauty as is 
 found nowhere else in the country but at the 
 summit of a cliff which is more than a thousand 
 feet high, and overhangs a dreadful lake. The 
 brothers tell wondrous tales of the horrors of this 
 lake — how wild its waters and how deep, and how 
 the most hideous sj^ecters are seen along its shores 
 or rising out of it. 
 
 Benedicta's edelweiss, therefore, has caused 
 great commotion and wonder, for even among the 
 boldest hunters there are few, indeed, who dare to 
 climb that cliff by the haunted lake. And the 
 tender child has accomplished this feat ! She has 
 gone quite alone to that horrible place, and has 
 climbed the almost vertical wall of the mountain to 
 
 45 
 
5rt)e ifetonft 46 
 
 ^" ^^ the green spot wliere the flowers grow with which 
 
 ?San2man'» ^^^ ^^^ moved to greet me. I doubt not that 
 
 oyauflp . jjg^ygj^ guarded her against mishap in order that 
 
 I might have a visible sign and token that I am 
 
 charged with the duty of her salvation. 
 
 Ah, thou poor sinless child, accurst in the eyes 
 of the people, God hath signified His care of thee, 
 and in my heart I feel already something of that 
 adoration which shall be thy due when for thy 
 purity and holiness He shall bestow upon thy 
 relics some signal mark of His favor, and the 
 Church shall declare thee blessed ! 
 
 I have learned another thing which I will 
 chronicle here. In this country these flowers are 
 the sign of a faithful love : the youth presents 
 them to his sweetheart, and the maidens decorate 
 the hats of their lovers with them. It is clear 
 that, in expressing her gratitude to a humble serv- 
 ant of the Church, Benedicta was moved, per- 
 haps without knowing it, to signify at the same 
 time her love of the Church itself, although, alas, 
 she has yet too little cause. 
 
 As I ramble about here, day after day, I am 
 becoming familar with every path in the forest, in 
 the dark pass, and on the- slopes of the mountains. 
 
 I am often sent to the homes of the peasants. 
 
47 Sije ittonS; 
 
 the hunters and the shepherds, to carry either 
 medicine to the sick or consolation to the sad. 
 The most reverend Superior has told me that as 
 soon as I receive holy orders I shall have to carry 
 the sacraments to the dying, for I am the young- 
 est and strongest of the brothers. In these high 
 places it sometimes occurs that a hunter or a 
 shepherd falls from the rocks, and after some days 
 is found, still living. It is then the duty of the 
 priest to perform the offices of our holy religion at 
 the bedside of the sufferer, so that the blessed 
 Savior may be there to receive the departing 
 soul. 
 
 That I may be worthy of such grace, may our 
 beloved Saint keep my heart pure from every 
 earthly passion and desire ! 
 
 Jtjanaman's 
 IDauflttei;. 
 
Hekiud him rode Jioc/nts, his son. 
 
XL 
 
 HE monastery has celebrated 
 a great festival, and I will 
 report all that occurred. 
 
 For many days before 
 the event the brothers 
 were busy preparing for it. 
 Some decorated the church 
 with sprays of pine and birch and-'with flowers. 
 They went with the other men and gathered the 
 most beautiful Alpine roses they could find, and 
 as it is midsummer they grow in great abundance. 
 On the day before the festival the brothers sat 
 in the garden, weaving garlands to adorn the 
 church ; even the most reverend Superior and the 
 fathers took pleasure in our merry task. They 
 walked beneath the trees and chatted pleasantly 
 while encouraging the brother butler to spend 
 freely the contents of the cellars. 
 
 The next morning was the holy procession. It 
 was very beautiful to see, and added to the glory 
 of our holy Church. The Superior walked under 
 
 4 49 
 
S:i)e ptontt 50 
 
 anlr tf)e 
 
 Jj^anflman's 
 33au2f)ter. 
 
 a purple silken canopy, surrounded by the worthy 
 Fathers, and bore in his hands the sacred emblem 
 of the crucifixion of our Savior. We brothers 
 followed, bearing burning candles and singing 
 psalms. Behind us came a great crowd of people 
 dressed in their finest attire. 
 
 The proudest of those in the procession were 
 the mountaineers and the salt-miners, the Salt- 
 master at their head on a beautiful horse adorned 
 with costly trappings. He was a proud-looking 
 man, with his great sword at his side and a 
 plumed hat upon his broad, high brow. Behind 
 him rode Eochus, his son. AVhen we had col- 
 lected in front of the gate to form a line I took 
 special notice of that young man. I judge him to 
 be self-willed and bold. He wore his hat on the 
 side of his head and cast flaming glances upon the 
 women and the maidens. lie looked contemptu- 
 ously upon us monks. I fear he is not a good 
 Christian, but he is the most beautiful youth that 
 I have ever seen : tall and slender like a young 
 pine, with light brown eyes and golden locks. 
 
 The Saltmaster is as powerful in this region as 
 our Superior. He is appointed by the Duke and 
 has judicial powers in all affairs. He has even 
 the power of life ajid death over those accused of 
 
51 
 
 murder or any other abominable crime. But the 
 Lord has fortunately endowed him with good 
 judgment and wisdom. 
 
 Through the village the procession moved out 
 into the valley and down to the entrances of the 
 great salt mines. In front of the principal mine 
 an altar was erected, and there our Superior read 
 high mass, Avhile all the people knelt. I observed 
 that the Saltmaster and his son knelt and bent 
 their heads with visible reluctance, and this made 
 me very sad. After the service the procession 
 moved toward the hill called "Mount Calvary," 
 which is still higher than the monastery, and from 
 the top of which one has a good view of the whole 
 country below. There the reverend Superior dis- 
 played the crucifix in order to banish the evil 
 powers which abound in these terrible mountains ; 
 and he also said prayers and pronounced anathemas 
 against all demons infesting the valley below. The 
 bells- chimed their praises to the Lord, and it 
 seemed as if divine voices were ringing through 
 the wilderness. It was all, indeed, most beautiful 
 and good. 
 
 I looked about me to see if the child of the 
 hangman were present, but I could not see her any- 
 where, and knew not whether to rejoice that she 
 
 anO tfte 
 
 JUanjjman's 
 
 ISauflJter, 
 
Ctje J«onfe 52 
 
 atiD tije 
 
 JBauQi)ter. 
 
 was oiit of reach of the insults of the people or to 
 mourn because deprived of the spiritual strength 
 that might have come to me from looking upon 
 her heavenly beauty. 
 
 After the services came the feast. Upon a 
 meadow sheltered by trees tables were spread, and 
 the clergy and the people, the most reverend Supe- 
 rior and the great Saltmaster partook of the viands 
 served by the young men. It was interesting to 
 see the young men make big fires of pine and 
 maple, put great pieces of beef upon wooden spits, 
 turn them over the coals until they were brown 
 and then lay them before the Fathers and the 
 mountaineers. They also boiled mountain trout 
 and carp in large kettles. The wheaten bread 
 was brought in immense baskets, and as to drink, 
 there was assuredly no scarcity of that, for the 
 Superior and the Saltmaster had each given a 
 mighty cask of beer. Both of these monstrous 
 barrels lay on wooden stands under an ancient oak. 
 The boys and the Saltmaster's men drew from the 
 cask which he had given^ while that of the Supe- 
 rior Avas served by the brother butler and a number 
 of us younger monks. In honor of Saint Fran- 
 ciscus I must say that the clerical barrel was of 
 vastly greater size than that of the Saltmaster. 
 
53 ^i^ ittonit 
 
 Separate tables had been provided for the Supe- 
 rior and the Fathers, and for the Saltmaster and 
 the best of his people. The Saltmaster and Supe- 
 rior sat ujDon chairs which stood upon a beautiful 
 carjoet, and their seats were screened from the sun 
 by a linen canopy. At the tal)le, surrounded by 
 their beautiful wives and daughters, sat many 
 knights, who had come from their distant castles 
 to sliare in the great festival. I helped at table. 
 I handed the dishes and filled the goblets and was 
 able to see how good an appetite the company had, 
 and how they loved that brown and bitter drink. 
 I could see also how amorously the Saltmaster's son 
 looked at the ladies, which provoked me very much, 
 as he could not marry them all, especially those 
 already married. 
 
 We had music, too. Some boys from the village, 
 who practice on various instruments in their spare 
 moments, were tlie performers. Ah, how they 
 yelled, those flutes and pipes, and how the fiddle 
 bows danced and chirped ! I do not doubt the 
 music was very good, but Heaven has not seen fit 
 to give me the right kind of ears. 
 
 I am sure our blessed Saint must have derived 
 great satisfaction from the sight of so many people 
 eating and drinking their bellies full. Heavens ! 
 
 ^ansman's 
 3Bauiit)ter. 
 
anil tje 
 
 J^anjjman's 
 ©auQljtrc. 
 
 how they did eat — what unearthly quantities they 
 did away with ! But that was nothing to their 
 drinking. I firmly believe that if every mountain- 
 eer had brought along a barrel of his own he would 
 have emptied it, all by himself. But the women 
 seemed to dislike the beer, especially the young 
 girls. Usually before drinking a young man 
 would hand his cup to one of the maids, who 
 barely touched it with her lips, and, making a 
 grimace, turned away her face. I am not suffi- 
 ciently acquainted with the ways of woman to say 
 with certainty if this jiroved that at other times 
 they were so abstemious. 
 
 After eating, the young men played at various 
 games which exhibited their agility and strength. 
 Holy Franciscus ! what legs they have, what arms 
 and necks ! They leapt, they wrestled with one 
 another ; it was like the fighting of bears. The 
 mere sight of it caused me to feel great fear. It 
 seemed as if they would crush one another. But 
 the maidens looked on, feeling neither fear nor 
 anxiety ; they giggled and appeared well pleased. 
 It was wonderful, too, to hear the voices of these 
 young mountaineers ; they threw back their heads 
 and shouted till the echoes rang from the mountain- 
 
5& me i«onfe 
 
 aim t|)c 
 
 sides and roared in the gorges^ as if from the 
 throats of a legion of demons. 
 
 Foremost among all was the Saltmaster's son. 
 He sjjrang like a deer, fought like a fiend, and 
 bellowed like a wild bull. Among these mount- 
 aineers he was a king. I observed that many were 
 jealous of his strength and beauty, and secretly 
 hated him ; yet all obeyed. It was beautiful to 
 see how this young man bent his slender body 
 while leaping and playing in the games — how he 
 threw up his head like a stag at gaze, shook his 
 golden locks and stood in the midst of his fellows 
 witli flaming cheeks and sparkling eyes. IIow sad 
 to think that pride and passion should make their 
 home in so lovely a body, which seems created for 
 the habitation of a soul that would glorify its 
 Maker ! 
 
 It was near dusk when the Superior, the Salt- 
 master, the Fathers and all the distinguished 
 guests parted and retired to their homes, leaving 
 the others at drink and dance. My duties compelled 
 me to remain with the brother butler to serve the 
 debauching youths witli beer from the great cask. 
 Young Rochus remained too. I do not know how 
 it occurred, but suddenly he stood before me. His 
 looks were dark and his manner proud. 
 
 HBauafttcr. 
 
Etc i^onlt 56 
 
 anu tjje 
 
 ?^ansman's 
 30austtct. 
 
 "Are yon," he said, "the mouk who gave offense 
 to the people the other day ? " 
 
 I asked humbly — though beneath my monk's 
 robe I felt a sinful anger : " What are you sj^eak- 
 ing of ?" 
 
 " As if you did not know ! " he said, haughtily. 
 " Now bear in mind what I tell you : if you ever 
 show any friendship toward that girl I shall teach 
 you a lesson which you v/ill not soon forget. You 
 monks are likely to call your impertinence by the 
 name of some virtue ; but I know the trick, and 
 will have none of it. Make a note of that, you 
 young cowl-wearer, for your handsome face and 
 big eyes will not save you." 
 
 With that he turned his back upon me and went 
 away, but I heard his strong voice ringing out 
 upon the night as he sang and shouted with the 
 others. I was greatly alarmed to learn that this 
 bold boy had cast his eyes upon the hangman's 
 lovely daughter. His feeling for her was surely 
 not honorable, or, instead of hating me for being 
 kind to her, he would have been grateful and 
 would have thanked me. I feared for the child, 
 and again and again did I promise my blessed 
 Saint that I would watch over and protect her, in 
 obedience to the miracle which he has wrought in 
 
57 8:|)e ittonfe 
 
 my breast regarding her. With that wondrous 
 feeling to urge me on, I cannot be slack in my 
 duty, and, Benedicta, thou shalt be saved — thy 
 body and thy soul ! 
 
XII. 
 
 ET mo continue my report. 
 
 The boys threw dry brush- 
 wood into the fire so that 
 the flames illuminated the 
 whole meadow and shone 
 red upon the trees. Then 
 they laid hands upon tlie 
 village maidens and began to turn and swing them 
 round and round. Holy saints ! how they stamped 
 and turned and threw their hats in the air, kicked 
 up their heels, and lifted the girls from the ground, 
 as if the sturdy Avenches were nothing but feather 
 balls ! They shouted and yelled as if all the evil 
 spirits had them in possession, so that I wished a 
 herd of swine might come, that the devils might 
 leave these human brutes and go into the four- 
 legged ones. The boys were quite full of the 
 brown beer, which for its bitterness and strength 
 is a beastly drink. 
 
 Before long the madness of intoxication broke 
 out ; they attacked each other with fists and 
 
 59 
 
anu tjie 
 
 l^angman's 
 SBauQtitec. 
 
 knives, and it looked as if they would do murder. 
 Suddenly the Saltmaster's son, who had stood 
 looking on, leaped among them, caught two of the 
 combatants by the hair and knocked their heads 
 together with such force that the blood started 
 from their noses, and I thought surely their skulls 
 had been crushed like egg-shells ; but they must 
 have been very hard-headed, for on being released 
 they seemed little the worse for their punishment. 
 After much shouting and screaming, Ilochus suc- 
 ceeded in making peace, which seemed to me, poor 
 worm, quite heroic. The music set in again : the 
 fiddles scraped and the pipes shrieked, while the 
 boys, with torn clothes and scratched and bleeding 
 faces, renewed the dance as if nothing had oc- 
 curred. Truly this is a people that would gladden 
 the heart of a Bramarbas or a Holofernes ! 
 
 I had scarcely recovered from the fright which 
 Rochus had given me, when I was made to feel a 
 far greater one. Eochus was dancing with a tall 
 and beautiful girl, who looked the very queen of 
 this young king. They made such mighty leaps 
 and dizzy turns, but at the same time so graceful, 
 that all looked on with astonishment and pleasure. 
 The girl had a sensuous smile on her lijDS and a 
 bold look in her brown face, which seemed to say : 
 
, .^^^^■'t'^ 
 
 > 
 
 i 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 i 
 
 Her Hack eyes harninii like flumes of hell. 
 
61 C|)e IWonlfc 
 
 anU t|)c 
 
 " See ! I am the mistress of his heart ! " But siid- 
 deuly he pushed her from him as in disgust, broke 
 from the circle of dancers, and cried to his friends : 
 " I am going to bring my own partner. Who will 
 go with me ? " * 
 
 The tall girl, maddened by the insult, stood 
 looking at him with the face of a demon, her 
 black eyes burning like flames of hell ! But her 
 discomfiture amused the drunken youths, and they 
 laughed aloud. 
 
 Snatching a fire-brand and swinging it about 
 his head till the sparks flew in showers, Rochus 
 cried again : " Who goes with me ? " and walked 
 rapidly away into the forest. The others, seizing 
 fire-brands also, ran after him, and soon their 
 voices could be Beard far away, ringing out upon 
 the night, themselves no longer seen. I was still 
 looking in the direction which they had taken, 
 when the tall girl whom Rochus had insulted 
 stepped to my side and hissed something into 
 my ear. I felt her hot breath on my cheek. 
 
 " If you care for the hangman's daughter, then 
 hasten and save her from that drunken wretch. 
 No woman resists him ! " 
 
 God ! how the wild words of that woman horri- 
 fied me ! I did not doubt the girl's words, but in 
 
 Jj^anaman's 
 ^auQl)ter. 
 
2rt)e iJ^onft 62 
 
 anlr tl)e 
 
 J^angman's 
 3iaufl|)ter, 
 
 my anxiety for the poor child I asked : " How can 
 I save her ? " 
 
 "Run and warn her, monk/' the wench replied : 
 "she will listen to you." 
 
 "But they will find her sooner than I." 
 
 " They are drunk and will not go fast. Besides, 
 I know a path leading to the hangman's hut by a 
 shorter route." 
 
 " Then show me and be quick ! " I cried. 
 
 She glided away, motioning me to follow. We 
 were soon in the woods, where it was so dark I 
 could hardly see the woman's figure ; but she 
 moved as fast and her step was as sure as in the 
 light of day. Above us we could see the torches 
 of the boys, which showed that they had taken the 
 longer path along the mountain-side. I heard 
 tlieir wild shouts, and trembled for the child. We 
 had walked for some time in silence, having loft 
 the youths far behind, when the young woman 
 began speaking to herself. At first I did not 
 understand, but soon my ears caught every passion- 
 ate word : 
 
 " He shall not have her ! To the devil with the 
 hangman's whelp ! Every one despises her and 
 spits at the sight of her. It is just like him — he 
 does not care for what peoj^le think or say. 
 
63 CEijc IHonft 
 
 anO ti)e 
 Because they hate he loves. Besides, she has a agjingmjux's 
 pretty face. I'll make it pretty for her ! I'll jgauafttec. 
 mark it with blood ! But if she were the 
 daughter of the devil himself he would not rest 
 until he had her. He shall not I" 
 
 She lifted her arms and laughed wildly — I 
 shuddered to hear her ! I thought of the dark 
 powers that live in the human breast, though I 
 know as little of them, thank God, as a child. 
 
 At length we reached the Galgenberg, where 
 stands the hangman's hut, and a few moments' 
 climb brought us near the door. 
 
 "There she lives," said the girl, pointing to the 
 hut, through the windows of which shone the yel- 
 low light of a tallow candle ; " go warn her. The 
 hangman is ill and unable to protect his daughter, 
 even if he dared. You'd better take her away — 
 take her to the Alpfeld on the Goll, where my 
 father has a house. They will not look for her up 
 there." 
 
 With that she left me and vanished in the 
 darkness. 
 
Therf, in the m'ujat <//' an illaininaUd siiare, irere liurltas a)id lienedicta. 
 
XIII. 
 
 OOKINGr in at the window 
 of the hut, I saw the liang- 
 mau sitting in a chair, with 
 his daughter beside him, 
 her hand upon his shoulder. 
 I could hear him cough and 
 groan, and knew that she 
 was trying to soothe him in his jiain. A world of 
 love and sorrow was in her face, which was more 
 beautiful than ever. 
 
 Nor did I fail to observe how clean and tidy 
 were the room and all in it. The humble dwell- 
 ing looked, indeed, like a place blessed by the 
 peace of God. Yet these blameless persons are 
 treated as accurst and hated like mortal sin ! 
 What greatly pleased me was an image of the 
 Blessed Virgin on the wall opposite the window 
 at which I stood. The frame was decorated with 
 flowers of the field, and the mantle of the Holy 
 Mother festopned with edelweiss. 
 
 I knocked at the door, calling out at j;he samp 
 5 G5 
 
C!)c i«on& 66 
 
 anU t\te 
 
 
 time: "Do not fear; it is I — Brother Ambro- 
 sius." 
 
 It seemed to me that, on hearing my voice and 
 name, Benedicta showed a sudden joy in her face, 
 but perhaps it was only surprise — may the saints 
 jorcserve me from the sin of pride. She came to 
 the window and opened it. 
 
 "Benedicta," said I, hastily, after returning her 
 greeting, "wild and drunken boys are on their 
 way hither to take you to the dance. Rochus is 
 with them, and says that he will fetch you to 
 dance with him. I have come before tliem to 
 assist you to escape. " 
 
 At the name of Rochus I saw the blood rise into 
 her cheeks and suffuse her whole face with crim- 
 son. Alas, I perceived that my jealous guide was 
 right : no woman could resist that beautiful boy, 
 not even this pious and virtuous child. When her 
 father comprehended what I said he rose to his feet 
 and stretched out his feeble arms as if to shield her 
 from harm, but, although his soul was strong, his 
 body, I knew, was powerless. I said to him : 
 " Let me take her away ; the boys are drunk and 
 know not what they do. Your resistance would 
 only make them angry, and they might harm you 
 both. Ah, look ! See their torches ; hear th^ir 
 
67 fffic IWonfe 
 
 . , . , anO ttje 
 
 boisterous voices ! Hasten, Benedicta — be quick, 
 
 be quick ! " 
 
 JBauflijtct. 
 Benedicta sprang to the side of the now sobbmg 
 
 old man and tenderly embraced him. Then she 
 hurried from the room, and after covering my 
 hands with kisses ran away into the woods, dis- 
 appearing in the night, at M'hich I was greatly sur- 
 prised. I waited for her to return, for a few 
 minutes, then entered the cabin to protect her 
 father from the wild youths who, I thought, would 
 visit their disappointment upon him. 
 
 But they did not come. I waited and listened 
 in vain. All at once I heard shouts of joy and 
 screams that made me tremble and pray to the 
 blessed Saint. But the sounds died away in the 
 distance, and I knew that the boys had retraced 
 their steps down the Galgenberg to the meadow 
 of the fires. The sick man and I spoke of the 
 miracle which had changed their hearts, and we 
 were filled with gratitude and joy. Then I re- 
 turned along the path by which I had come. 
 As I arrived near the meadow, I could hear a 
 wilder and madder uproar tlian ever, and could 
 see through the trees the glare of greater fires, 
 with the figures of the youths and a few maids 
 (lancing in the open, their heads uncovered, their 
 
ano tpe Yinir streaming over their shoulders, their gar- 
 Jganjjman's jj^gnts disordered by the fury of their movements. 
 iPauflStcv. r^i^Qj circled about the fires, wound in and out 
 among them, showing black or red according to 
 how the light struck them, and looking alto- 
 gether like Demons of the Pit commemorating 
 some infernal anniversary or some new torment 
 for the damned. And, Holy Savior ! there, in 
 the midst of an illuminated space, upon which 
 the others did not trespass, dancing by them- 
 selves and apparently forgetful of all else, were 
 Piochus and Benedicta ! 
 
XIV. 
 
 " "iRff^i'iliJ E ay : Tf . m u p 
 
 OLY Mother of God! what 
 can be worse than the fall of 
 an angel ? I saw — I under- 
 stood, then, that in leaving 
 me and her father Benedicta 
 had gone willingly to meet 
 the very fate from which I 
 had striven to save her I 
 
 "The accurst Avench has run into Eochus' 
 arms," hissed some one at my side, and, turning, I 
 saw the tall brown girl who had been my guide, 
 her face distorted with hate. " I wish that I had 
 killed her. Why did you suffer her to play us this 
 trick, you fool of a monk ? " 
 
 I pushed her aside and ran toward the couj^le 
 without thinking what I did. But what could I 
 do ? Even at that instant, as though to jirevent 
 my interference, though really unconscious of my 
 presence, the drunken youths formed a circle 
 about them, bawling tlieir admiration and clapping 
 
 their hands to mark the time. 
 69 
 
ana tt)c 
 
 J^aitfiman'a 
 
 3i3aujii)ter» 
 
 70 
 
 As these two beautiful figures danced they were 
 a lovely picture. He, tall, slender and lithe, was 
 like a god of the heathen Greeks ; while Benedicta 
 looked like a fairy. Seen through the slight mist 
 upon the meadows, her delicate figure, moving 
 swiftly and swaying from side to side, seemed 
 veiled with a web of purple and gold. Her eyes 
 were cast modestly upon the ground ; her motions, 
 though agile, were easy and graceful ; her face 
 glowed with excitement, and it seemed as if lier 
 whole soul were absorbed in the dance. Poor, 
 sweet child ! her error made me weep, but I for- 
 gave her. Her life was so barren and joyless ; 
 why should she not love to dance ? Heaven bless 
 her ! But Rochus — ah, God forgive him ! 
 
 While I was looking on at all this, and thinking 
 what it was my duty to do, the jealous girl — she 
 is called Amnla — had stood near me, cursing and 
 blaspheming. When the boys aj)plauded Bene- 
 dicta's dancing, Amula made as if she would 
 spring forward and strangle her. But I held the 
 furious creature back, and, stepping forward, 
 called out : " Benedicta ! " 
 
 She started at the sound of my voice, but, 
 though she hung her head a little lower, she con- 
 tinued dancing. Amula could control her rage 
 
©aufltter. 
 
 71 ®:t)c iilonft 
 
 no longer, and rnslied forward with a savage cr}^ 
 trying to break into the circle. But the drunken _ 
 boys prevented. They jeered at her, which mad- 
 dened her the more, and she made effort after 
 effort to reach her victim. The boys drove her 
 awa}^ with shouts, curses and laughter. Holy 
 Franciscus, pray for us ! — when I saw the hatred 
 in Amula's eyes a cold sliudder ran tln'ough my 
 body. God be with us ! I believe the creature 
 capable of killing the ])Oor child witli her owii 
 hands, and glorying in the deed ! 
 
 I ought now to have gone home, but I remained. 
 I thought of what might occur when the dance 
 was over, for I had been told that the youths com- 
 monly accomj^anied their partners home, and I 
 was horrified to think of Kochus and Benedicta 
 alone together in the forest and the night. 
 
 Imagine my surin'ise when all at once Benedicta 
 lifted her head, stopj^ed dancing, and, looking 
 kindly at Roclius, said in her sweet voice, so like 
 the sound of silver bells : 
 
 "I thank you, sir, for having chosen me for 
 5^our partner in the dance in such a knightly 
 way." 
 
 Then, bowing to the Saltmaster's son, she 
 slipped quickly through the circle, and, before any 
 
anU tfie 
 3iaufli)tei-. 
 
 72 
 
 one could know what was occurring disappeared 
 in the bhick spaces of the forest. Eochus at first 
 seemed stupefied with amazement, but when he 
 realized that Benedicta was indeed gone he raved 
 like a madman. He shouted : " Benedicta ! " 
 He called her endearing names; but all to no pur- 
 pose — she had vanished. Then he hurried after 
 her and wanted to search the forest with torches, 
 but the other youths dissuaded him. Observing 
 my presence, he turned his wrath upon me ; I 
 think if he had dared he would have struck me. 
 He cried : " I'll make you smart for this, you 
 miserable cowl-wearer ! " 
 
 But I do not fear him. Praise be to God ! 
 Benedicta is not guilty, and I can respect her as 
 before. Yet I tremble to think of the many perils 
 which beset her. She is defenseless against the 
 hate of Amula as well as against the lust 
 of Rochus. Ah, if I could be ever at her side 
 to watch over and protect her ! But I commend 
 her to Thee, Lord : the poor motherless child 
 shall surely not trust to Thee in vain. 
 
XV. 
 
 LAS ! my unhappy fate ! — 
 again jiimished and again 
 unable to find myself guilty. 
 It seems that Amula has 
 talked about Benedicta and 
 Rochus. The brown wench 
 strolled from house to house 
 telling how Rochus went to the gallows for his 
 partner in the dance. And she added that Bene- 
 dicta had acted in the most shameless manner with 
 the drunken boys. When the people spoke to me 
 of this I enlightened them regarding the facts, as 
 it seemed to me my duty to do, and told all as it 
 had occurred. 
 
 By this testimony in contradiction of one who 
 broke the Decalogue by bearing false witness 
 against her neighbor I have, it seems, offended the 
 Superior. I was summoned before him and ac- 
 cused of defending the hangman's daughter against 
 the statements of an honest Christian girl. I 
 
 asked, meekly, what I should have done — whether 
 73 
 
I should have permitted the innocent and defense- 
 less to be calumniated. 
 BausDter. „ q^ ^^j^^^ interest," I was asked, « can the hang- 
 man's daughter be to you ? Moreover, it is a fact 
 that she went of her own will to associate with the 
 drunken boys." 
 
 To this I replied : " She went out of love to her 
 father, for if the intoxicated youths had not found 
 her they would have maltreated him — and she 
 loves the old man, who is ill and helpless. Thus 
 it happened, and thus I have testified." 
 
 But His Eeverence insisted that I was wrong, 
 and put me under severe penance. I willingly 
 undergo it : I am glad to suffer for the sweet 
 child. Nor will I murmur against the revered 
 Superior, for he is my master, against whom to 
 rebel, even in thought, is sin. Is not obedience 
 the foremost commandment of our great Saint for 
 all his disciiDles ? Ah, how I long for the priestly 
 ordination and the holy oil ! Then I shall have 
 peace and will be able to serve Heaven better and 
 with greater acceptance. 
 
 I am troubled about Benedicta. If not confined 
 to my cell I should go toward the Galgenberg : 
 perhaps I should meet her. I grieve for her as if 
 she were my sister. 
 
75 ^e l^onlt 
 
 anO tje 
 Belonsrina: to the Lord, I have no rifflit to love ^ 
 
 anything but Him who died upon the cross for our 
 
 sins — all other love is evil. blessed Saints in 
 
 Heaven ! what if it bo that this feeling which I 
 
 have accepted as a sign and token that I am 
 
 charged with the salvation of Benedicta's soul is 
 
 but an earthly love ! Pray for me, dear Fran- 
 
 ciscus, that I may have the light, lest I stray 
 
 into that road which leads down to Hell. Light 
 
 and strength, beloved Saint, that I may know the 
 
 right path, and walk therein forever I 
 
XVI. 
 
 STAND at the window of 
 my cell. The snn sinks and 
 the shadows creep higher 
 on the sides of the mount- 
 ains beyond the abyss. 
 The abyss itself is filled 
 with a mist whose billowy 
 surface looks like a great lake. I think how 
 Benedicta climbed out of these awful depths to 
 fling me the edelweiss; I listen for the sound of 
 the stones displaced by her daring little feet and 
 plunging into the chasm below. But night after 
 night has passed. I hear the wind among the 
 pines ; I hear the water roaring in the deeps ; I 
 hear the distant song of the nightingale ; but her 
 voice I do not hear. 
 
 Every evening the mist rises from the abyss. It 
 forms billows ; then rings ; then flakes, and these 
 rise and grow and darken until they are great 
 clouds. They cover the hill and the valley, the 
 tall pines and the snow-pointed mountains. They 
 
 77 
 
antt tl)e 
 
 39au2f)tPi^' 
 
 extinguish the last remaining touches of sunlight 
 on the higher peaks, and it is night. Alas, in my 
 soul also there is night - — dark, starless, and with- 
 out hope of dawn ! 
 
 To-day is Sunday. Benedicta was not in church 
 — "the dark corner" remained vacant. I was 
 unable to keep my mind upon the service, a sin 
 for which I shall do voluntary penance. 
 
 Amula was among the other maidens, but I saw 
 nothing of Rochus. It seemed to me that her 
 watchful black eyes were a sufficient guard against 
 any rival, and that in her jealousy Benedicta 
 would find protection. God can make the basest 
 passions serve the most worthy ends, . and the 
 reflection gave me pleasure, which, alas, was of 
 short life. 
 
 The services being at an end, the Fathers and 
 friars left the church slowly in procession, moving 
 through the vestry, while the people went out at 
 the main entrance. From the long covered gallery 
 leading out of the vestry one has a full view of the 
 public square of the village. As we friars, v/ho 
 were behind the Fathers, were in the gallery, some- 
 thing occurred which I shall remember even to 
 the day of my death as an unjust deed which 
 Heaven permitted for I know not what purpose. 
 
79 ?rte ifWonft 
 
 anlr ti)C 
 
 It seems that the Fathers must have known what 
 was coming, for they halted in the gallery, giving 
 us all an opportunity to look out upon the square. 
 
 I heard a confused noise of voices. It came 
 nearer, and the shouting and yelling sounded like 
 the approach of all the fiends of Hell. Being at 
 the farther end of the gallery, I was unable to see 
 what was going on in the square, so I asked a 
 brother at a window near by what it was all about. 
 
 "They are taking a woman to the pillory," he 
 answered. 
 
 " Who is it ? " 
 
 « A girl." 
 
 " What has she done ? " 
 
 "You ask a foolish question. Whom are pil- 
 lories and whipping-posts for but fallen women ? " 
 
 The howling mob passed farther into the square, 
 so that I had a full view. In the front were boys, 
 leaj)ing, gesticulating and singing vile songs. 
 They seemed mad with joy and made savage by 
 the shame and i:)ain of their fellow-creature. Nor 
 did tlie maids behave much better. "Fie ujDon 
 the outcast ! " they cried. " See what it is to be a 
 sinner ! Thank Heaven, we are virtuous." 
 
 In the rear of these yelling boys, surrounded by 
 this mob of screaming women and girls — 0, God 1 
 
 Ji^anQman's 
 119aufll)tct. 
 
S:t)e m-onk 80 
 
 Jj^anoTnan's 
 30au2t)tec. 
 
 how can I write it ? How can I exj)ress the horror 
 of it ? In the midst of it all — she^ the lovely^ the 
 sweet, the immaculate Benedicta ! 
 
 my Savior ! how did I see all this, yet am 
 still living to relate it ? I must have come near to 
 death. The gallery, the square, the people 
 seemed whirling round and round ; the earth sank 
 beneath my feet, and, although I strained my eyes 
 open to see, yet all was dark. But it must have 
 been for but a short time ; I recovered, and, look- 
 ing down into the square, saw her again. 
 
 They had clothed her in a long gray cloak, fast- 
 ened at the waist with a rope. Her head bore a 
 wreath of straw, and on her breast, suspended by 
 a string about the neck, was a black tablet bearing 
 in chalk the word " Buhle" — harlot. 
 
 By the end of the rope about her waist a man led 
 her. I looked at him closely, and — most holy 
 Son of God, what brutes and beasts Thou didst 
 come to save ! — it was Benedicta's father ! They 
 had compelled the poor old man to perform one of 
 the duties of his office by leading his own child to 
 the pillory ! I learned later that he had implored 
 the Superior on his knees not to lay this dreadful 
 command upon him, but all in vain. 
 
 The memory of this scene can never leave me. 
 
liiiiiilicid strfti/i,(/ mil 1,1 r ttrm in xiipji/ini/iiin. 
 
81 E\)e i«onft 
 
 anO tje 
 The hanffman did not remove his eyes from his 
 
 Jl^ansman's 
 daughter's face, and she frequently nodded at him 
 
 ^ 1 J ©aufltter. 
 
 and smiled. By the grace of God, the maiden 
 
 smiled ! 
 
 The mob insulted her, called her vile names and 
 spat uj^on the ground in front of her feet. Nor 
 was this all. Observing that she took no notice of 
 them, they pelted her with dust and grass. This 
 was more than the poor father could endure, and, 
 with a faint, inarticulate moan, he fell to the 
 ground in a swoon. 
 
 Oh, the pitiless wretches I — they wanted to lift 
 him up and make him finish his task, but Bene- 
 dicta stretched out her arm in supplication, and 
 with an expression of so ineffable tenderness upon 
 her beautiful face that even the brutal mob felt 
 her gentle power and recoiled from before her, 
 leaving the unconscious man upon the ground. 
 She knelt and took her father's head in her lap. 
 She whispered in his ear words of love and com- 
 fort. She stroked his gray hair and kissed his pale 
 lips until she had coaxed him into consciousness 
 and he had opened his eyes. Benedicta, thrice 
 blessed Benedicta, thou surely art born to be a 
 saint, for thou didst show a divine patience like 
 
Eie S^otOt 82 
 
 atiO tje . . 
 
 __ that with which our Savior bore His cross and 
 
 with it all the sins of the world ! 
 
 She helped her father to rise^ and smiled brightly 
 in his face when he made out to stand. She shook 
 the dust from his clothing, and tben^ still smiling 
 and murmuring words of encouragement, handed 
 him the rope. The boys yelled and sang, the 
 women screamed, and the wretched old man led his 
 innocent child to the place of shame. 
 
XVII. 
 
 'HEN I was back again in my 
 cell I threw m3-self upon the 
 stones and cried aloud to 
 God against the injustice 
 and misery that I had wit- 
 nessed, and against the still 
 greater misery of which I 
 had been spared the siglit. I saw in my mind the 
 father binding his child to the j)ost. I saw the 
 brutal populace dance about her with savage 
 delight. I saw the vicious Amula spit in the pure 
 one's face. I prayed long and earnestly that the 
 poor child might be made strong to endure her 
 great affliction. 
 
 Then I sat and waited. I waited for the setting 
 of the sun, for at that time the sufferer is com- 
 monly released from the whipping-post. The 
 minutes seemed hours, the hours eternities. The 
 sun did not move ; the day of shame was denied a 
 night. 
 
 It was in vain that I tried to understand it all ; 
 
 83 
 
Ci)c iaonfe 84 
 
 I was stnnned and dazed. Why did Eochus per- 
 mit Benedicta to be so disgraced ? Does he think 
 the deeper her shame the more easily he can win 
 her ? I know not, nor do I greatly care to search 
 out his motive. But, God help me ! I myself feel 
 her disgrace most keenly. 
 
 And, Lord, Lord, what a light has come into the 
 understanding of Thy servant ! It has come to 
 me like a revelation out of Heaven that my feeling 
 for Benedicta is more and less than what I thought 
 it. It is an earthly love — the love of a man for a 
 woman. As first this knowledge broke into my 
 consciousness my breath came short, my heart beat 
 quick and hard ; it seemed to me that I should 
 suffocate. Yet such was the hardness of my heart 
 from witnessing so terrible an injustice tolerated 
 by Heaven, that I was unable wholly to repent. 
 In the sudden illumination I was blinded : I could 
 not clearly see my degree of sin. The tumult of 
 my emotions was not altogether disagreeable ; I 
 had to confess to myself that I would not willingly 
 forego it, even if I knew it wicked. May the 
 Mother of Mercy intercede for me ! 
 
 Even now I cannot think that in supposing 
 myself to have a divine mandate to save the soul 
 of Benedicta, and prepare her for a life of sanctity. 
 
3Saujri)tcr. 
 
 g5 SJe i^onft 
 
 antr tjje 
 
 I was wliolly iu error. This other human desire «. 
 
 -' X^anQman's 
 
 — comes it not also of God ? Is it not concerned 
 for the good of its object ? And what can be a 
 greater good than salvation of the soul ? — a holy 
 life on earth, and in Heaven eternal happiness and 
 glory to reward it. Surely the sjiiritual and the 
 carnal love are not so widely different as I have 
 been taught to think them. They are, perhaj)s, not 
 antagonistic, and are but expressions of the same 
 will. holy Franciscus, in this great light that 
 has fallen about me, guide thou my steps. Show 
 to my dazzled eyes the straight, right way to 
 Benedicta's good ! 
 
 At length the. sun disapjieared behind the clois- 
 ter. The flakes and cloudlets gathered upon the 
 horizon ; the haze rose from the abyss and beyond ; 
 the 23urple shadow climbed higher and higher ; the 
 great sloj)e of the mountain extinguished at last 
 the gleam of light upon the summit. Thank God, 
 oh, thank God, she is free ! 
 
XVIII. 
 
 HAVE been very ill, but by 
 the kind attention of the 
 brothers am suflicieutly re- 
 covered to leave my bed. 
 It must be God's will that 
 I live to serve Ilim, for cer- 
 tainly I have done nothing 
 to merit His great mercy in restoring me to 
 health. Still, I feel a j^earning in my soul for 
 a complete dedication of my jjoor life to Him 
 and His service. To embrace Him and be bound 
 up in His love is now the only aspiration that I 
 have. As soon as the holy oil is on my brow, 
 these hopes, I am sure, will be fulfilled, and, 
 purged of my hopeless earthly passion for Bene- 
 dicta, I shall be lifted into a new and diviner 
 life. And it may be that then I can, without 
 offense to Heaven or peril to my soul, watch 
 over and protect her far better than I can now 
 as a wretched monk. 
 
 I have been weak. My feet, like those of an 
 
ana tje 
 
 J^anuntan's 
 
 JBaualJtet. 
 
 infant, failed to support my body. The brothers 
 carried me into the garden. With what gratitude 
 I again looked upward into the blue of the sky ! 
 How rapturously I gazed upon the white peaks 
 of the mountains and the black forests on their 
 slojoes ! Every blade of grass seemed to me of 
 special interest^ and I greeted each passing insect 
 as if it were an old acquaintance. 
 
 My eyes wander to tlie south, where the Gal- 
 genberg is, and I think unceasingly of the poor 
 child of the hangman. What has become of her ? 
 Has she survived her terrible experience in the 
 public square ? What is she doing ? Oh, that I 
 were strong enough to walk to the Galgenberg ! 
 But I am not permitted to leave the monastery, 
 and there is none of whom I dare ask her fate. 
 The friars look at me strangely ; it is as if they 
 no longer regarded me as one of them. Why is 
 this so ? I love them, and desire to live in har- 
 mony with them. They are kind and gentle, yet 
 they seem to avoid me as much as they can. 
 What does it all mean ? 
 
JSoeii the joi/vus yuulh was silent now. 
 
XIX. 
 
 HAVE been in the presence 
 of the most reverend Superior, 
 Father Andreas. "Your re- 
 covery was miraculous," said 
 he. " I wish you to be worthy 
 of sucli mercies, and to pre- 
 pare your soul for the great 
 blessing that awaits you. I have, therefore, my 
 son, ordained that you leave us for a season, to 
 dwell ajDart in the solitude of the mountains, for 
 the double jDurpose of restoring your strength and 
 affording you an insight into your own heart. 
 Make a severe examination apart from any distrac- 
 tions, and you Avill perceive, I do not doubt, the 
 gravity of your error. Pray that a divine light 
 may be shed upon your path, that you may walk 
 upright in the service of the Lord as a true priest 
 and apostle, with immunity from all base passions 
 and earthly desires." 
 
 I had not the presumption to reply. I submit 
 to the will of His Eeverence witliout a murmur, 
 
 89 
 
C:j)c monk 90 
 
 Kansmxn's 
 JBauflStet. 
 
 for obedience is a rule of our Order. Nor do I 
 fear the wilderness^ although I have heard that it 
 is infested with wild beasts and evil spirits. Our 
 Superior is right : the time passed in solitude will 
 be to me a season of probation, purification and 
 healing, of which I am doubtless in sore need. So 
 far I have progressed in sin only; for in confession 
 I have kept back many things. Not from the fear 
 of punishment, but because I could not mention 
 the name of the maiden before any other than my 
 holy and blessed Franciscus, who alone can under- 
 stand. He looks kindly down ujion me from the 
 skies, listening to my sorrow ; and whatever of 
 guilt there may be in my compassion for the inno- 
 cent and persecuted child he willingly overlooks 
 for the sake of our blessed Redeemer, who also 
 suffered injustice and was acquainted with grief. 
 
 In the mountains it will be my duty to dig 
 certain roots and send them to the monastery. 
 From such roots as I am instructed to gather the 
 Fathers distil a liquor which has become famous 
 throughout the laud, even as far, I have been told, 
 as the great city of Munich. This liquor is so 
 strong and so fiery with spices that, after drinking 
 it, one feels a burning in his throat as if he had 
 swallowed a flame from hell ; yet it is held in high 
 
91 Ciie iHtorOt 
 
 esteem everywliere by reason of its medicinal prop- "^ ^^ 
 erties, it being a remedy for many kinds of ills and ^^^^^^^ ^ 
 infirmities ; and it is said to be good also for the *^"flw^*^* 
 health of the soul;, though I should suppose a 
 goodly life might be equally efficacious in places 
 where the liquor cannot be obtained. However 
 this may be, from the sale of the liquor comes the 
 chief revenue of the monastery. 
 
 The root from which it is chiefly made is that 
 of an Ali^ine plant called (jentiana, which grows 
 in great abundance on the sides of the mountains. 
 In the months of July and August the friars dig 
 the roots and dry them by fire in the mountain 
 cabiiis, and they are then packed and sent to the 
 monastery. The Fathers have the sole right to 
 dig the root in this region, and the secret of manu- 
 facturing the liquor is jealously guarded. 
 
 As I am to live in the high country for some 
 time, the Superior has directed me to collect the 
 root from time to time as I have the strength. A 
 boy, a servant in the monastery, is to guide me to 
 my solitary station, carrying up my provisions and 
 returning immediately. He will come once a week 
 to renew my supply of food and take away the 
 roots that I shall have dug. 
 
 No time has been lost in dispatching me on my 
 
3I9auj{|)ter. 
 
 anti tj)e 
 -g penitential errand. This very evening I have 
 
 taken leave of the Superior, and, retiring to mj cell, 
 have jiacked my holy books, the Agnus and the 
 Life of Saint Franciscus, in a bag. Nor have I 
 forgotten writing-materials with Avliich to continue 
 my diary. These preparations made, I have forti- 
 fied my soul with prayer, and am ready for any fate, 
 even an encounter with the beasts and demons. 
 
 Beloved Saint, forgive the pain I feel in going 
 away without having seen Benedicta, or even 
 knowing what has become of her since that dread- 
 ful day. Thou knowest, glorious one, and 
 humbly do I confess, that I long to hasten to the 
 Galgenberg, if only to got one glimpse of the hut 
 which holds the fairest and best of her sex. Take 
 me not, holy one, too severely to task, I beseech 
 thee, for the weakness of my erring human heart ! 
 
XX. 
 
 f|S I left the monastery with 
 my young guide all was 
 quiet within its walls ; the 
 holy brotherhood slejit the 
 sleep of peace, which had so 
 long been denied to me. It 
 was early dawn, and the 
 clouds in the east were beginning to show narrow 
 edges of gold and crimson as we ascended the path 
 leading to the mountain. My guide, with bag 
 upon his shoulder, led, and I followed, with my 
 cowl fastened back and a stout stick in my hand. 
 This had a sharp iron point which might be used 
 against wild beasts. 
 
 My guide was a light-haired, blue-eyed young 
 fellow with a cheerful and amiable face. He 
 evidently found a keen delight in climbing his 
 native hills toward the high country whither we 
 were bound. He seemed not to feel the weight 
 of the burden that he bore ; his gait was light and 
 
 ?§ 
 
Sausjtitet. 
 
 antr tje 
 ffianaman'a "^^^^^ ^^^^ footing snre. He sprang uji the steep 
 and rugged way like a mountain-goat. 
 
 The boy was in high spirits. He told me strange 
 talcs of ghosts and goblins, witches and fairies. 
 These last he seemed to be very well acquainted 
 with. He said they ai^peared in shining garments, 
 with bright hair and beautiful wings, and this 
 description agrees very nearly with what is related 
 of thetn in books by certain of the Fathers. Any 
 one to whom they take a fancy, says the boy, they 
 are able to keep under their spell, and no one can 
 break the enchantment, not even the Holy Virgin. 
 But I judge that this is true of only such as are 
 in sin, and that the pure in heart have nothing to 
 fear from them. 
 
 AVe traveled up hill and down, through forests 
 and blooming meadows and across ravines. The 
 mountain-streams, hastening down to the val- 
 leys, full-banked and noisy, seemed to be relat- 
 ing the wonderful things that they had seen and 
 the strange adventures they had met with on 
 their way. Sometimes the hillsides and the 
 woods resounded with nature's various voices, 
 calling, whispering, sighing, chanting praises to 
 the Lord of All. Now and again we passed a 
 mountaineer's cabin, before which played chil- 
 
95 Cjbe J«on8; 
 
 anlr t])t 
 
 dren, yellow-haired and unkempt. On seeing 
 strangers^ they rau away. But the women came 
 forward, with infants in their arms, and asked 
 for henedictions. They offered us milk, butter, 
 green cheese and black bread. We frequently 
 found the men seated in front of their huts, carv- 
 ing wood, mostly images of our Savior ujDon the 
 cross. These are sent to the city of Munich, 
 where they are offered for sale, bringing, I am 
 told, considerable money and much honor to their 
 pious makers. 
 
 At last Ave arrived at the shore of a lake, but 
 a dense fog prevented a clear view of it. A 
 clumsy little boat was found moored to the 
 bank ; my guide bade me enter it, and presently 
 it seemed as if we were gliding through the sky 
 in the midst of the clouds. I had never before 
 been on the water, and felt a terrible misgiving 
 lest we should capsize and drown. We heard 
 nothing but the sound of the ripples against the 
 sides of the boat. Here and there, as v/c ad- 
 vanced, some dark object became dimly visible 
 for a moment, then vanished as suddenly as it 
 had appeared, and we seemed gliding again 
 through empty space. As the mist at times 
 lifted a little, I observed great black rocks pro- 
 
 ^Dgansman'K 
 JBaustter* 
 
hangman's 
 JBaujittcc. 
 
 96 
 
 truding from the water, and not far from shore 
 were lying giant trees half submerged, with huge 
 limbs that looked like the bones of some mon- 
 strous skeleton. The scene was so full of hor- 
 rors that even the joyous youth was silent now, 
 his watchful eye ever seeking to penetrate the 
 fog in search of new dangers. 
 
 By all these signs I knew that we were crossing 
 that fearful lake which is haunted by ghosts and 
 demons, and I therefore commended my soul to 
 God. The power of the Lord overcomes all evil. 
 Scarcely had I said my prayer against the spirits 
 of darkness, when suddenly the veil of fog was 
 rent asunder, and like a great rose of fire the sun 
 shone out, clothing the world in garments of color 
 and gold ! 
 
 Before this glorious eye of God the darkness 
 fled and was no more. The dense fog, which had 
 changed to a thin, transparent mist, lingered a 
 little on the mountain-sides, then vanished quite 
 away. Except in the black clefts of the hills, no 
 vestige of it stayed. The lake was as liquid silver ; 
 the mountains were gold, bearing forests that 
 were like flames of fire. My heart was filled with 
 wonder and gratitude. 
 
 As our boat crept on I observed that the lake, 
 
97 Srte ilEonft 
 
 ana tt)t 
 
 filled a lonff, narrow basin. On our right the cliflfs ^ 
 
 ° *=" JlQanfiman's 
 
 rose to a great height, their tops covered with _ 
 
 *= . ©auflttcr. 
 
 pines, but to the left and in front lay a pleasant 
 land, where stood a large building. This was 
 Saint Bartholomffi, the summer residence of his 
 Keverence, Superior Andreas. 
 
 This garden spot was of no great extent : it 
 was shut in on all sides but that upon which the 
 lake lay by cliffs that rose a thousand feet into 
 the air. High in the front of this awful wall was 
 set a green meadow, which seemed like a great 
 jewel gleaming upon the gray cloak of the mount- 
 ain. My guide pointed it out as the only place 
 in all that region where the edelweiss grew. 
 This, then, was the very place where Benedicta 
 had culled the lovely flowers that she had brouglit 
 to me during my penance. I gazed upward to 
 that beautiful but terrible spot with feelings that 
 I have no words to express. The youth, his 
 mood sympathetic with the now joyous aspect of 
 nature, shouted and sang, but I felt the hot tears 
 rise into my eyes and flow down upon my cheeks, 
 and concealed my face in my cowl. 
 
XXI. 
 
 FTER leaving the boat 
 we climbed the mountain. 
 Dear Lord, nothing comes 
 from Thy hand without a 
 purpose and a use, but why 
 Thou shouldst have piled 
 up these mountains, and 
 why Thou shouldst have covered them with 
 so many stones, is a mystery to me, since I can 
 see no purpose in stones, which are a blessing to 
 neither man nor beast. 
 
 After hours of climbing we reached a sjDring, 
 where I sat down, faint and foot-sore and out of 
 breath. As I looked about me the scene fully 
 justified all that I had been told of these high 
 solitudes. Wherever I turned my eyes was noth- 
 ing but gray, bare rocks streaked with red and 
 ^yellow and brown. There were dreary wastes of 
 stones where nothing grew — no single plant nor 
 blade of grass — dreadful abysses filled with ice, 
 
 99 
 
ano tt)e qj^^^ glittering snowfields sloping upward till they 
 ?l}anflmau'3 seemed to touch the sky. 
 
 »aufll)tet. Among the rocks I did, however, find a few 
 flowers. It seemed as if the Creator of this wild 
 and desolate region had himself found it too 
 horrible, and, reaching down to the valleys, had 
 gathered a handful of flowers and scattered them 
 in the barren places. These flowers, so distin- 
 guished by the Divine hand, have bloomed with a 
 celestial beauty that none others know. The boy 
 pointed out the plant whose root I am to dig, as 
 well as several strong and wholesome herbs service- 
 able to man, among them the golden-flowered arnica. 
 After an hour we continued our journey, which 
 we pursued until I was hardly able to drag my feet 
 along the joath. At last we reached a lonely spot 
 surrounded by great black rocks. In the center 
 was a miserable hut of stones, with a low opening 
 in one side for an entrance, and this, the youth 
 told me, was to be my habitation. We entered, 
 and my heart sank to think of dwelling in such a 
 place. There was no furniture of any kind. A 
 wide bench, on which was some dry Alpine grass, 
 was to be my bed. There was a fireplace, with 
 some Avood for fuel, and a few simple cooking- 
 utensils. 
 
101 ffi!)e iWonft 
 
 aiilj t1[)c 
 The boy took up a pan and ran away with it, 
 
 . . JQauflman's 
 
 and, throwing myself down in front of the hut, I 
 
 . . . ©auflttcr. 
 
 was soon lost in contemplation of the wilderness 
 
 and terror of the place in which I was to prepare 
 my soul for service of the Lord. The boy soon 
 returned, bearing the pan in both hands, and on 
 seeing me he gave a joyful shout, wliose echoes 
 sounded like a hundred voices babbling among the 
 rocks on every side. After even so short a period 
 of solitude I was so happy to see a human face 
 that I came near answering his greeting with un- 
 becoming joy. How, then, could I hope to 
 sustain a Aveek of isolation in that lonely spot ? 
 
 When the boy placed the j^an before me it was 
 full of milk, and he brought forth from his cloth- 
 ing a pat of yellow butter, prettily adorned with 
 Alpine flowers and a cake of snow-white cheese 
 wrapped in aromatic herbs. The sight delighted 
 me, and I asked him, jokingly : 
 
 "Do butter and cheese, then, grow on stones up 
 here, and have you found a spring of milk ? " 
 
 "You might accomplish such a miracle," he 
 replied, " but I prefer to hasten to the Black Lake 
 and ask this food of the young woman who lives 
 there." 
 
 He then got some flour from a kind of pantry in 
 
33aug|)tcr. 
 
 antr t^e 
 
 the hut, and, having kindled a fire on the hearth, 
 
 proceeded to make a cake. 
 
 "Then Ave are not alone in this wilderness," I 
 said. " Tell me where is that lake on the shore of 
 Avhich these generous people dwell." 
 
 " The Black Lake," he replied, blinking his eyes, 
 which were full of smoke, "is behind that Kogcl 
 yonder, and the dairy-house stands on the edge of 
 the cliff above the water. It is a bad place. The 
 lake reaches clear down to Hell, and you can hear, 
 through the fissures of the rock, the roaring and 
 hissing of the flames and the groans of the souls. 
 And in no other place in all this world are there 
 so many fierce and evil spirits. Beware of it ! 
 You might fall ill there in spite of your sanctity. 
 Milk and butter and cheese can be obtained at the 
 Green Lake lower down; but I will tell the women 
 to send up what you require. They will be glad 
 to oblige you; and if you will preach them a ser- 
 mon every Sunday, they will fight the very devil 
 for you ! " 
 
 After onr meal, which I thought the sweetest 
 that I had ever eaten, the boy stretched himself in 
 the sunshine and straightway fell asleep, snoring 
 so loudly that, tired as I was, I could hardly follow 
 his example. 
 
XXII. 
 
 'HEN I awoke the sun was 
 already behind the mount- 
 ains, whose tops were 
 fringed with jSre. I felt as 
 one in a dream, but was soon 
 recalled to my senses, and 
 made to feel that I was alone 
 in the wilderness by shouts of the young man 
 in the distance. Doubtless he had pitied my con- 
 dition, for, instead of disturbing me, he had gone 
 away without taking leave, being compelled to 
 reach the dairy on the Green Lake before night- 
 fall. Entering the cabin, I found a fire burning 
 lustily and a quantity of fuel piled beside it. Nor 
 had the thoughtful youth forgotten to prejiare my 
 supper of bread and milk. He had also shaken 
 up the grass on my hard bed, and covered it with a 
 woolen cloth, for which I was truly grateful to 
 him. 
 
 Refreshed by my long sleep, I remained outside 
 the cabin till late in the evening. I said my 
 prayers in view of the gray rocks beneath the 
 
 103 
 
Cije i»onk 104 
 
 antr pc felack sky, iu which the stars blinked merrily. 
 51^anflman's rpj^^y seemed much more brilliant up here than 
 jsaufil) ex. ^|-jgj^ ggg^ from the valley, and it was easy to imag- 
 ine that, standing on the extreme summit, one 
 might touch them with his hands. 
 
 Many hours of that night I passed under the 
 sky and the stars, examining my conscience and 
 questioning my heart. I felt as if in church, 
 kneeling before the altar and feeling the awful 
 presence of the Lord. And at last my soul was 
 filled with a divine peace, and as an innocent child 
 presses its mother's breast, even so I leaned my 
 head upon thine, Nature, mother of us all ! 
 
XXIII. 
 
 HAD not before seen a dawn 
 so glorious ! The mountains 
 Avere rose-red, and seemed 
 almost transparent. The 
 atmosphere was of a silvery 
 lucidity, and so fresh and 
 pure that with every breath 
 I seemed to be taking new life. The dew, heavy 
 and white, clung to the scanty grass-blades like 
 rain and dripped from the sides of the rocks. 
 
 It was while engaged in my morning devotions 
 that I involuntarily became acquainted with my 
 neighbors. All night long the marmots had 
 squealed, greatly to my dismay, and they were 
 now capering to and fro like hares. Overhead 
 the brown hawks sailed in circles with an eye to 
 the birds flitting among the bushes and the wood- 
 mice racing along the rocks. Now and again a 
 troop of chamois passed near on their way to the 
 feeding-grounds on the cliffs, and high above all I 
 saw a single eagle rising into the sky, higher and 
 
 105 
 
Cijc ittonfe 106 
 
 antr ti)c 
 
 JQanflman's 
 33au2l)tcr. 
 
 higher, as a soul flies heavenward when purged of 
 sin. 
 
 I was still kneeling when the silence was broken 
 by the sound of voices. I looked about, but, 
 although I could distinctly hear the voices and 
 catch snatches of song, I saw no one. The sounds 
 seemed to come from the heart of the mount- 
 ain, and, remembering the malevolent powers that 
 infest the place, I repeated a prayer against the 
 Evil One and awaited the event. 
 
 Again the singing was heard, ascending from a 
 deep chasm, and presently I saw rising out of it 
 three female figures. As soon as they saw me 
 they ceased singing and uttered shrill screams. 
 By this sign I knew them to be daughters of the 
 earth, and thought they might be Christians, and 
 so waited for them to approach. 
 
 As they drew near I observed that they carried 
 baskets on their heads, and that they were tall, 
 good-looking lasses, light-haired, brov/n in com- 
 plexion and black-eyed. Setting their baskets 
 upon the ground, they greeted me humbly and 
 kissed my hands, after which they opened the bas- 
 kets and displayed the good things they had 
 brought me — milk, cream, cheese, butter and 
 cakes. 
 
107 
 
 Seating themselves upon the ground, they told 
 me they were from the Green Lake, and said they 
 were glad to have a "mountain brother" again, 
 especially so young and handsome a one ; and, in 
 saying so, there were merry twinkles in their dark 
 eyes and smiles on their red lips, which pleased me 
 exceedingly. 
 
 I inquired if they were not afraid to live in the 
 wilderness, at which they laughed, showing their 
 white teeth. They said they had a hunter's gun 
 in their cabin to keep off bears, and knew several 
 powerful sentences and anathemas against demons. 
 Nor were they very lonely, they added, for every 
 Saturday the boys from the valley came up to hunt 
 wild beasts, and then all made merry. I learned 
 from them that meadows and cabins were common 
 among the rocks, where herdsmen and herdswomen 
 lived during the whole summer. The finest 
 meadows, they said, belonged to the monastery, and 
 lay but a short distance away. 
 
 The pleasant chatting of the maidens greatly 
 delighted me, and the solitude began to be less 
 oppressive. Having received the benediction, they 
 kissed my hand and went away as they had come, 
 laughing, singing and shouting in the joy of youth 
 and health. So much I have already observed : 
 
 antr t^e 
 
 Jj^anfltnan's 
 
 3Baufll)trc 
 
anU tj3c 
 
 JQanjiman's 
 39auai)tcc. 
 
 the people in the mountains lead a better and hap- 
 pier life than those in the damj), deejo valleys below. 
 Also, they seem jDurcr in heart and mind, and that 
 may be due to their living so much nearer to 
 Heaven, which some of the brothers say approaches 
 more closely to the earth here than at any other 
 place in the world excepting Rome. 
 
 a. 
 
XXIV. 
 
 ;HE maidens having gone, I 
 
 stowed away the provisions 
 
 which they had brought me, 
 
 and, taking a short pointed 
 
 spade and a bag, went in 
 
 search of the gentiaua roots. 
 
 They grew in abundance, 
 
 and my back soon began to ache from stooping 
 
 and digging ; but I continued the labor, for I 
 
 desired to send a good quantity to the monastery 
 
 to attest my zeal and obedience. I had gone a 
 
 long distance from my cabin without observing 
 
 the direction which I had taken, when suddenly I 
 
 found myself on the brink of an abyss so deep and 
 
 terrible that I recoiled with a cry of horror. At 
 
 the bottom of this chasm, so far below my feet 
 
 that I was giddy to look down, a small circular 
 
 lake was visible, like the eye of a fiend. On the 
 
 shore below, near a clifE overhanging the water, 
 
 stood a cabin, from the stone-weighted roof of 
 
 which rose a thin column of blue smoke. About 
 109 
 
STijc ifttonft 110 
 
 the cabin, iu the narrow and sterile pasture, a few 
 cows and sheeio were grazing. What a dreadful 
 place for a human habitation ! 
 
 I was still gazing down with fear into this gulf 
 when I was again startled : I heard a voice dis- 
 tinctly call my name ! The sound came from 
 behind me, and my name was uttered with so 
 caressing sweetness that I hastened to cross myself 
 as a protection from the wiles of the fairies with 
 their sj)ells and enchantments. Soon I heard the 
 voice again, and this time it caused my heart to 
 beat so that I was near suffocation, for it Avas 
 Bencdicta's ! Benedicta in this wilderness, and I 
 alone with her ! Surely I now had need of thy 
 guidance, blessed Franciscus, to keep my feet in 
 the path of the Divine purpose. 
 
 I turned about and saw her. She was now 
 springing from rock to rock, looking backward 
 and calling a name that was strange to me. 
 When she saw that I looked at her she stood 
 motionless. I walked to her, greeting her in the 
 name of the Blessed Virgin, though, God forgive 
 me ! hardly able in the tumult of my emotions to 
 articulate that holy title. 
 
 Ah, how changed the poor child was ! The 
 lovely face was as pale as marble ; the large eyes 
 
Ill me l^onfe 
 
 anti t|)e 
 
 were sunken and inexpressibly sad. Her beauti- 
 ful hair alone was unaltered^, flowing over her 
 shoulders like threads of gold. We stood looking 
 at one another^ silent from surprise ; then I again 
 addressed her : 
 
 "Is it, then, you, Benedicta, who live in the 
 cabin down there by the Black Lake — near the 
 waters of Avernus ? And is your father with 
 you ? " 
 
 She made no reply, but I observed a quivering 
 about her delicate mouth, as when a child endeav- 
 ors to refrain from weeping. I repeated my ques- 
 tion : " Is your father with you ? " 
 
 She answered faintly, in a tone that was hardly 
 more than a sigh : 
 
 *' My father is dead. " 
 
 I felt a sudden pain in my very heart, and was 
 for some moments unable to speak further, quite 
 overcome by compassion. Benedicta had turned 
 away her face to hide her tears, and her fragile 
 frame was shaken by her sobs. I could no longer 
 restrain myself. Stepping up to her, I took her 
 hand in mine, and, trying to crush back into my 
 secret heart every human desire, and address her 
 in words of religious consolation, I said : 
 
 "My child — dear Benedicta — your father is 
 
 3i)augt)tc»r. 
 
Cl)c i»onfe 112 
 
 ant) t\)t 
 
 SaucSter. 
 
 gone from you, but another Father remains who 
 _ will protect you every day of your life. And as 
 
 far as may accord with His holy will I, too, good 
 and beautiful maiden, will helj) you to endure your 
 great affliction. He whom you mourn is not lost ; 
 he is gone to the mercy seat, and God will be 
 gracious to him." 
 
 But my words seemed only to awaken her sleep- 
 ing grief. She threw herself upon the ground 
 and gave Avay to her tears, sobbing so violently that 
 I w^as filled with alarm. Mother of Mercy ! 
 how can I bear the memory of the anguish I suf- 
 fered in seeing this beautiful and innocent child 
 overwhelmed with so great a flood of grief ? I 
 bent over her, and my own tears fell upon her 
 golden hair. My heart urged me to lift her from 
 the earth, but my hands were powerless to move. 
 At length she composed herself somewhat and 
 spoke, but as if she were talking to herself rather 
 than to me : 
 
 " Oh, my father, my poor, heart-broken father ! 
 Yes, he is dead — they killed him — he died long 
 ago of grief. My beautiful mother, too, died of 
 grief — of grief and remorse for some great sin, I 
 know not what, which he had forgiven her. He 
 could not but be compassionate and merciful. His 
 
5^ 
 
 i> 
 
JDauuJjter. 
 
 antt tjje 
 heart was too tender to let him kill a worm or a 
 
 beetle, and he was compelled to kill men. His 
 father and his father^s fathers had lived and died 
 in the Galgenberg. They were hangmen all, and 
 the awfnl inheritance fell to him : there was no 
 escape, for the terrible people held him to the trade. 
 I have heard him say that he was often tempted to 
 kill himself, and bnt for me I am sure he would have 
 done so. He could not leave me to starve, though 
 he had to see me reviled, and at last, Holy 
 Virgin ! publicly disgraced for that of which I 
 was not guilty." 
 
 As Benedicta made this reference to the great 
 injustice that she had been made to suHcr her 
 white cheeks kindled to crimson with the recollec- 
 tion of the shame which for her father's sake she 
 had, at the time of it, so differently endured. 
 During the narrative of her grief she had partly 
 risen and had turned her beautiful face more and 
 more toward me as her confidence had groAvn ; but 
 now she veiled it with her hair, and would have 
 turned her back but that I gently prevented her 
 and spoke some words of comfort, though God 
 knows my own heart was near breaking through 
 sympathy with hers. After a few moments she 
 resumed: 
 
EJe i«onk 114 
 
 anti tjje 
 
 AanQman's 
 9aug])t(r. 
 
 " Alas, my poor fatlier ! lie was unhappy every 
 way. Not even the comfort of seeing his child 
 baptized was granted him. I was a hangman's 
 daughter, and my parents were forbidden to pre- 
 sent me for baptism; nor could any priest be found 
 who was willing to bless me in the name of the 
 Holy Trinity. So they gave me the name Bene- 
 dicta, and blessed me themselves, over and over 
 again. 
 
 " I was only an infant when my beautiful mother 
 died. They buried her in uncousecrated ground. 
 She could not go to the Heavenly Father in the 
 mansions above, but was thrust into the flames. 
 While she was dying my father had hastened to 
 the Reverend Superior, imploring him to send a 
 priest with the sacrament. His prayer was denied. 
 No priest came, and my j)oor father closed her eyes 
 himself, while his own were blind with tears of 
 anguish for her terrible fate. 
 
 " And all alone he had to dig her grave. He 
 had no other place than near the gallows, where 
 he had so often buried the hanged and the accurst. 
 With his own hands he had to place her in that 
 unholy ground, nor could any masses be said for 
 her suffering soul. 
 
 " I well remember how my dear father took me 
 
115 ?rt)e i[«onfe 
 
 anlJ tje 
 
 then to the imap^e of the Holy Virgin and bade 
 
 . . . J^angman's 
 
 me kneel, and, joining my little hands, taught me 
 
 to pray for my poor mother, who had stood unde- 
 fended before the terrible Judge of the Dead. 
 This I have done every morning and evening since 
 that day, and now I pray for both ; for my father 
 also has died unshriven, and his soul is not with 
 God, but burns in unceasing fire. 
 
 " When he was dying I ran to the Superior, just 
 as he had done for my dear mother. I besought 
 him on my knees. I prayed and wept and 
 embraced his feet, and would have kissed his hand 
 but that he snatched it away. He commanded 
 me to go." 
 
 As Benedicta proceeded with her narrative she 
 gained courage. She rose to her feet and stood 
 erect, threw back her beautiful head and lifted 
 her eyes to the heavens as if recounting her 
 wrongs to God's high angels and ministers of 
 doom. She stretched forth her bare arms in gest- 
 ures of so natural force and grace that I was filled 
 with astonishment, and her unstudied words came 
 from her lips with an eloquence of which I liad 
 never before had any conception. I dare not 
 think it inspiration, for, God forgive us all ! every 
 word was an unconscious arraignment of Him and 
 
Cjljc Jttonft lie 
 
 ano tpc -gjg Holy Church ; yet surely uo mortal with lips 
 jlQanflman s ^i^touched by a live coal from the altar ever so 
 
 *au3Btet. gp^]^g before ! In the presence of tliis strange and 
 gifted being I so felt my own unworth that I had 
 surely knelt, as before a blessed saint, but that 
 she suddenly concluded, with a pathos that 
 touched me to tears. 
 
 "The cruel peoj^le killed him," she said, with a 
 sob in the heart of every word. " They laid hands 
 upon me Avhom he loved. They charged me 
 falsely with a foul crime. They attired mo in 
 a garment of dishonor, and put a crown of straw 
 upon my head, and hung about my neck the black 
 tablet of shame. They spat upon me and reviled 
 me, and compelled him to lead me to the pillory, 
 where I was bound and struck with whijjs and 
 stones. That broke his great, good heart, and so 
 he died, and I am alone." 
 
XXV. 
 
 HEN Benedicta had finished 
 I remained silent, for in the 
 presence of siich a sorrow 
 what could I say ? For 
 such wounds as hers relig- 
 ion has no balm. As I 
 thought of the cruel wrongs 
 of this humble and harmless family there came 
 into my heart a feeling of wild rebellion against 
 the world, against the Church, against God ! 
 They were brutally unjust, horribly, devilishly 
 unjust ! — God, the Church, and the world. 
 
 Our very surroundings — the stark and soulless 
 wilderness, perilous Avitli precipices and bleak with 
 everlasting snows — seemed a visible embodiment of 
 the Avoeful life to which the poor child had been 
 condemned from birth ; and truly this was more 
 than fancy, for since her father's death had de- 
 jDrived her of even so humble a home as the hang- 
 man's hovel she had been driven to these eternal 
 
 solitudes by the stress of want. But below us 
 117 
 
?!r|)c ittonft 
 
 JUanijman's 
 JSausttev. 
 
 118 
 
 were i:)leasant villages, fertile fields, green gardens, 
 and homes where jjeace and plenty abided all the 
 year. 
 
 After a time, when Benedicta was somewhat 
 composed, I asked her if she had any one with 
 her for protection. 
 
 "I have none," she rei^lied. But observing my 
 look of pain, she added : " I have always lived 
 in lonely, accurst places ; I am accustomed to 
 that. Now that my father is dead, there is no 
 one who cares even to speak to me, nor any 
 whom I care to talk with — except you." After 
 a pause she said : " True, there is one who cares 
 to see me, but he" 
 
 Here she broke off, and I did not press her 
 to explain lest it should embarrass her. Pres- 
 ently she said : 
 
 " I knew yesterday that you were here. A boy 
 came for some milk and butter for you. If you 
 were not a holy man, the boy would not have 
 come to me for your food. As it is, you cannot 
 be harmed by the evil which attaches to every- 
 thing I have or do. Are you sure, though, that 
 you made the sign of the cross over the food 
 yesterday ? " 
 
 "Had I known that it came from yon, Bene- 
 
119 me i«onft 
 
 antr tije 
 
 dicta, that precaution would have been omitted," 
 I answered. 
 
 She looked at me with beaming eyes, and said : 
 
 " Oh, dear sir, dear Brother ! " 
 
 And both the look and the words gave me the 
 keenest delight — us, in truth, do all this saintly 
 creature's words and ways. 
 
 I inquired what had brought her to the cliff- 
 top, and who the person was that I had heard 
 her calling. 
 
 "It is no person," she answered, smiling ; "it is 
 only my goat. She has strayed away, and I was 
 searching for her among the rocks." 
 
 Then nodding to me as if about to say farewell, 
 she turned to go, but I detained her, saying that I 
 would assist her to look for the goat. 
 
 AVe soon discovered the animal in a crevice of 
 rock, and so glad was Benedicta to find her 
 humble companion that she knelt by its side, put 
 her arms about its neck and called it by many 
 endearing names. I thought tliis very charming, 
 and could not help lookiug upon the group with 
 obvious admiration. Benedicta, observing it, said : 
 
 " Her mother fell from a cliS and broke her neck. 
 I took the little one and brought it up on milk. 
 
 3Bauflt)ter. 
 
anU tt)e 
 
 JSangman's 
 
 3Bauflt)ter. 
 
 120 
 
 and she is very fond of me. One avIio lives aloue 
 as I do values the love of a faithful animal." 
 
 When the maiden Avas about to leave me I 
 gained courage to speak to her of what had been 
 so long in my mind. I said : " It is true, is it not, 
 Benedicta, that on tlie night of the festival you 
 went to meet the drunken boys in order to save 
 your father froui harm ? " 
 
 She looked at me in great astonishment. " For 
 what other reason could you suppose I went ? " 
 
 "I could not think of any other," I replied, in 
 some confusion. 
 
 "And now, good-by, Brother," she said, mov- 
 ing away. 
 
 "Benedicta," I cried. She paused and turned 
 her head. 
 
 " Next Sunday I shall preach to the dairy women 
 at the Green Lake ; will you come ? " 
 
 "Oh, no, dear Brother," she replied, hesitating 
 and in low tones. 
 
 " You will not come ? " 
 
 " I should like to come, but my presence would 
 frighten away the dairy women and otliers whom 
 your goodness would bring there to hear you. 
 Your charity to me would cause you trouble. I 
 
121 ?CJ)f iWor* 
 
 antr t|)e 
 pray yon. sir, accept my thanks, bnt I cannot ^ 
 
 come." ^ 
 
 ]9aug))Ur. 
 
 "Then I shall come to yon." 
 " Beware, oh, pray, beware I " 
 "I shall come." 
 
XXVI. 
 
 HE boy had taught me how 
 to prepare a cake. I knew all 
 that went to the making of 
 it, and the right propor- 
 tions, yet when I tried to 
 make it I could not. All that 
 I was able to make was a 
 smoky, greasy pap, more fit for the mouth of Satan 
 than for a pious son of the Church and follower of 
 Saint Franciscus. My failure greatly discouraged 
 me, yet it did not destroy my appetite ; so, taking 
 some stale bread, I dipped it in sour milk and was 
 about to make my stomach do penance for its many 
 sins, when Benedicta came with a basketful of 
 good things from her dairy. Ah, the dear child ! 
 I fear that it was not with my heart only that I 
 greeted her that blessed morning. 
 
 Observing the smoky mass in the pan, she 
 smiled, and quietly throwing it to the birds (which 
 may Heaven guard ! ) she cleansed the pan at the 
 spring, anu, "^urning, arranged the fire. She 
 
 123 
 
anlr tje 
 
 3IQansntan'0 
 
 I9aug't)tec. 
 
 124 
 
 then prepared the material for a fresh cake. 
 Taking two hanclfuls of flour, she put it into an 
 earthen bowl, and upon the top of it poured a cup 
 of cream. Adding a pinch of salt, she mixed the 
 whole vigorously with her slender white hands 
 until it became a soft, swelling dough. She next 
 greased the pan with a piece of yellow butter, and, 
 pouring the dough into it, placed it on the fire. 
 When the heat had penetrated the dough, causing 
 it to expand and rise above the sides of the pan, 
 she deftly pierced it here and there that it should 
 not burst, and when it was well browned she took 
 it up and set it before me, all unworthy as I was. 
 I invited her to share the meal with me, but she 
 would not. She insisted, too, that I should cross 
 myself before partaking of anything that she had 
 brought me or prepared, lest some evil come to 
 me because of the ban upon her ; but this I would 
 not consent to do. While I ate she culled flowers 
 from among the rocks, and, making a wreath, hung 
 it upon the cross in front of the cabin ; after 
 which, when I had finished, she employed herself 
 in cleansing the dishes and arranging everything 
 in order as it should be, so that I imagined myself 
 far more comfortable than before, even in merely 
 looking about me. When there v/;. nothing more 
 
1-5 5j,e fmont 
 
 to be done, and my conscience would not permit ^" "^ 
 me to invent reasons for detaining her, she went ™^"Oinan « 
 away, and oh, my Savior ! how dismal and dreary ®^^SP «♦ 
 seemed the day when she was gone ! Ah, Bene- 
 dicta, Benedicta, what is this that thou hast done 
 to me ? — making that sole service of the Lord to 
 which I am dedicated seem less happy and less 
 holy than a herdsman's humble life here in the 
 wilderness with thee ! 
 
XXVII. 
 
 [IFE up licre is less disagree- 
 able than I thought. What 
 seemed to mo a dreary soli- 
 tude seems now less dismal 
 and desolate. This mount- 
 ain Av i 1 d e r n c s s , whieli at 
 first filled me Avith aAvo, 
 gradually reveals its benign cliai'acter. It is mar- 
 velously beautiful in its grandeur, with a beauty 
 which purifies and elevates the soul. One can 
 read in it^ as in a book, the praises of its Creator. 
 Daily, while digging gentiana roots, I do not fail 
 to listen to the voice of the wilderness and to com- 
 pose and chasten my soul more and more. 
 
 In these mountains are no feathered songsters. 
 The birds here utter only shrill cries. The flowers, 
 too, are without fragrance, but wondrously beauti- 
 ful, shining with the fire and gold of stars. I have 
 seen slopes and heights here Avhich doubtless were 
 never trodden by any human foot. They seem to 
 
 127 
 
Ct)t i«onft 128 
 
 me sacred, the touch of the Creator still visible 
 upon them, as when they came from His hand. 
 
 Game is in great abundance. Chamois are some- 
 times seen in such droves that the very hill-sides 
 seem to move. There are steinbocks, veritable 
 monsters, but as yet, thank Heaven, I have seen 
 no bears. Marmots play about me like kittens, 
 and eagles, the grandest creatures in this high 
 world, nest in the cliffs to be as near the sky as 
 they can get. 
 
 When fatigued I stretch myself on the Alpine 
 grass, which is as fragrant as the most precious 
 spices. I close my eyes and hear the wind v/hisper 
 through the tall stems, and in my heart is peace, 
 Blessed be the Lord ! 
 
XXVIII. 
 
 VERY morning the dairy 
 women come to- my cabin, 
 their merry shouts ringing 
 in the air and echoed from 
 the hills. They bring fresh 
 milk, butter and cheese, 
 chat a little while and go 
 away. Each day they relate something new that 
 has occurred in the mountains or been reported 
 from the villages below. They are joyous and 
 happy, and look forward with delight to Sunday, 
 when there will be divine service in the morning 
 and a dance in the evening. 
 
 Alas, these happy people are not free of the sin 
 of bearing false witness against their neighbor. 
 They have spoken to me of Benedicta — called her 
 a disgraceful wench, a hangman's daughter and 
 (my heart rebels against its utterance) the mistress 
 of Eochus ! The pillory, they said, was made for 
 such as she. 
 
 Hearing these maidens talk so bitterly and 
 
 9 129 
 
2rt)e iKonft 130 
 
 ©auflljter. 
 
 falsely of one whom tliey so little knew, it was 
 with diflficulty that I mastered my indignation. 
 But in pity of their ignorance I reprimanded them 
 gently and kindly. It was wrong, I said, to con- 
 demn a fellow-being unheard. It was unchristian 
 to speak ill of any one. 
 
 They do not understand. It surprises them 
 that I defend a person like Benedicta — one who, 
 as they truly say, has been publicly disgraced and 
 has not a friend in the world. 
 
XXIX. 
 
 HIS morning I visited the 
 Black Lake. It is indeed 
 an awful and accursed place, 
 fit for the habitation of the 
 damned. And there lives 
 the poor forsaken child ! 
 Approaching the cabin, I 
 could see a fire burning on the hearth, and over it 
 was suspended a kettle. Benedicta was seated on 
 a low stool, looking into the flames. Her face was 
 illuminated with a crimson gloAv, and I could 
 observe heavy tear-drops on her cheeks. 
 
 Not wishing to see her secret sorrow, I hastened 
 to make known my presence, and addressed her as 
 gently as I could. She was startled, but when she 
 saw who it was, smiled and blushed. She rose 
 and came to greet me, and I began speaking to 
 her almost at random, in order that she might 
 recover her composure. I spoke as a brother 
 might speak to his sister, yet earnestly, for my 
 heart was full of compassion. 
 
 131 
 
anO tije 
 29aufll)tet. 
 
 132 
 
 "Oh, Benedicta," I said, "I know your heart, 
 and it has more love for that wild youth Eochus 
 than for our dear and blessed Savior. I know 
 how willingly you bore infamy and disgrace, sus- 
 tained by the thought that he knew you innocent. 
 Far be it from me to condemn you, for what is 
 holier or purer than a maiden's love ? I would 
 only warn and save you from the consequence of 
 having given it to one so unworthy." 
 
 She listened with her head bowed, and said 
 nothing, but I could hear her sighs. I saw, too, 
 that she trembled. I continued : 
 
 "Benedicta, the passion which fills your heart 
 may prove your destruction in this life and here- 
 after. Young Rochus is not one who will make 
 you his wife in the sight of God and man. Why 
 did he not stand forth and defend you when you 
 were falsely accused ? " 
 
 "He was not there," she said, lifting her eyes 
 to mine ; " he and his father were at Salzburg. 
 He knew nothing till tliey told him." 
 
 May God forgive me if at this I felt no joy in 
 another's acquittal of the heavy sin with which I 
 had charged him. I stood a moment irresolute, 
 with my head bowed, silent. 
 
 "But, Benedicta," I resumed, "will he take 
 
33augjl)tet. 
 
 133 ^^^ iHonft 
 
 ano tl)c 
 for a wife one M'liose good name has been black- 
 ened in the sight of his family and his neighbors ? 
 No, he does not seek 3'ou with an honorable pur- 
 pose. Oh, Benedicta, confide in me. Is it not as 
 I say ?" 
 
 But she remained silent, nor could I draw from 
 her a single word. She would only sigh and 
 tremble ; she seemed unable to speak. I saw that 
 she was too weak to resist the temptation to love 
 young Rochns; nay, I saw that her whole heart 
 was bound up in him, and my soul melted with 
 pity and sorrow — pity for her and sorrow for 
 myself, for I felt that my power was unequal to 
 the command that had been laid upon me. My 
 agony was so keen that I could hardly refrain 
 from crying out. 
 
 I went from her cabin, but did not return to 
 my own. I wandered about the haunted shore of 
 the Black Lake for hours, without aim or inw- 
 pose. 
 
 Reflecting bitterly upon my failure, and beseech- 
 ing God for greater grace and strength, it was 
 revealed to me that I was an unworthy disciple of 
 the Lord and a faithless son of the Church. I 
 became more keenly conscious than I ever had 
 been before of the earthly nature of my love for 
 
anti t1)c 
 
 JQanjjman's 
 
 iSauQljter. 
 
 134 
 
 Benedicta, and of its sinfulness. I felt that I had 
 not given my whole heart to God, but was clinging 
 to a temporal and human hope. It was plain to 
 me that unless my love for the sweet child should 
 be changed to a jmrely spiritual affection, purified 
 from all the dross of passion, I could never receive 
 holy orders, but should remain always a monk and 
 always a sinner. These reflections caused me great 
 torment, and in my despair I cast myself down 
 upon the earth, calling aloud to my Savior. In 
 this my greatest trial I clung to the Cross. " Save 
 me, Lord ! " I cried. " I am engulfed in a great 
 passion — save me, oh, save me, or I perish for- 
 ever ! " 
 
 All that night I struggled and prayed and fought 
 against the evil spirits in my soul, with their sug- 
 gestions of recreancy to the dear Church whose 
 child I am. 
 
 "The Church," they whispered, "has servants 
 enough. You are not as yet irrevocably bound to 
 celibacy. You can procure a dispensation from 
 your monastic vows and remain here in the mount- 
 ains, a layman. You can learn the craft of the 
 hunter or the herdsman, and be ever near Bene- 
 dicta to guard and guide her — perhaps in time 
 
135 ^\>t i^onfe 
 
 to win her love from Eochus and take her for 
 your wife." 
 
 To these temptations I opposed my feeble 
 strength and such aid as the blessed Saint gave 
 me in my great trial. The contest was long and 
 agonizing, and more than once, there in the dark- 
 ness and the wilderness, which rang with my cries, 
 I was near surrender ; but at the dawning of the 
 day I became more tranquil, and peace once more 
 filled my heart, even as the golden light filled the 
 great gorges of the mountain where but a few 
 moments before were the darkness and the mist. 
 I thought then of the suffering and death of our 
 Savior, who died for the redemption of the world, 
 and most fervently I prayed that Heaven would 
 grant me the great boon to die likewise, in a hum- 
 bler way, even though it were for but one suffering 
 being — Benedicta. 
 
 May the Lord hear my prayer ! 
 
 lIDauflt)tcr. 
 
XXX. 
 
 HE night before the Sunday 
 ou which I was to hold di- 
 vine service great fires were 
 kindled on the clitfs — a sig- 
 nal for the young men in 
 the valley to come up to the 
 mountain dairies. They 
 came in great numbers, shouting and screaming, 
 and were greeted with songs and shrill cries by 
 the dairy maidens, who swung flaming torches that 
 lit up the faces of the great rocks and sent gigan- 
 tic shadows across them. It was a beautiful sight. 
 These are iiideed a happy people. 
 
 The monastery boy came in with the rest. He 
 will remain over Sunday, and, returning, wall take 
 back the roots that I have dug. He gave me 
 much news from the monastery. The reverend 
 Superior is living at Saint Bartholomae, fishing 
 and hunting. Another thing — one which gives 
 me great alarm — is that the Saltmaster's son, 
 young Rochus, is in the mountains not far from 
 
 137 
 
anil tl)e 
 
 _.. , the Black Lake. It seems he lias a hnnting-lodge 
 
 J^anuntan s * ° 
 
 _« • . on the ni^ioer cliff, and a path leads from it 
 directly to the lake. The boy told me this, but 
 did not observe how I trembled when hearing it. 
 AVould that an angel with a flaming sword might 
 guard, the path to the lake, and to Benedicta ! 
 
 The shouting and singing continued during the 
 whole night, and between this and the agitation in 
 my soul I did not close my eyes. Early the next 
 morning the boys ami girls arrived in crowds from 
 all directions. The maidens wore silken kerchiefs 
 twisted prettily about their heads, and had deco- 
 rated themselves and their escorts with flowers. 
 
 Not being an ordained priest, it was not per- 
 mitted me either to read mass or to preach a ser- 
 mon, but I prayed v»'ith them and spoke to them 
 whatever my aching heart found to say. I spoke 
 to them of our sinfulness and God's great mercy ; 
 of our harshness to one another and the Savior's 
 love for us all ; of Ilis infinite compassion. As 
 my words echoed from the abyss below and the 
 heights above I felt as if I were lifted out of this 
 world of sufl:ering and sin and borne away on 
 angels' wings to the radiant spheres beyond the 
 sky ! It was a solemn service, and my little con- 
 
139 ^t>e iWonft 
 
 antr t})e 
 
 gregatiou was awed into devotion and seemed to 
 feel as if it stood in the Holy of Ilolies. 
 
 The service being concluded, I blessed the peo- 
 ple and they quietly went away. They had not 
 been long gone before I heard the lads send forth 
 ringing shouts, but this did not displease me. 
 Why should they not rejoice ? Is not cheerfulness 
 the purest praise a human heart can give ? 
 
 In the afternoon I went down to Benedicta's 
 cabin and found her at the door, making a wreath 
 of edelweiss for the image of the Blessed Virgin, 
 intertwining the snowy flowers with a purple blos- 
 som that looked like blood. 
 
 Seating myself beside her, I looked on at her 
 beautiful work in silence, but in my soul was a 
 wild tumult of emotion and a voice that cried : 
 "Benedicta, my love, my soul, I love you more 
 than life ! I love you above all things on earth 
 and in Heaven ! " 
 
 J^anflinan's 
 llBauffl)trc. 
 
XXXI. 
 
 'HE Superior ecut for me, and 
 with a strange foreboding I 
 followed his messenger down 
 the difficult way to the lake 
 and embarked in the boat. 
 Occui^ied with gloomy reflec- 
 tions and presentiments of im- 
 pending evil, I hardly observed that we had left 
 the shore before the sound of merry voices apprised 
 me of our arrival at St. Bartholomae. On the 
 beautiful meadow surrounding the dwelling of the 
 Superior were a great number of people — priests, 
 friars, mountaineers and hunters. Many were 
 there who had come from afar with large retinues of 
 servants and boys. In the house was a great 
 bustle — a confusion and a hurrying to and fro, as 
 during a fair. The doors stood wide open, and 
 people ran in and out, clamoring noisily. The 
 dogs yelped and howled as loud as they could. 
 On a stand under an oak was a great cask of beer, 
 and many of the people were gathered about it, 
 
 141 
 
fffte iWonft 142 
 
 drinking. Inside the house, too, there seemed to 
 be much drinking, for I saw many men near the 
 windows with mighty cujos in their hands. 
 
 On entering, I encountered throngs of servants 
 carrying dishes of fish and game. I asked one of 
 them when I could see the Superior. He answered 
 that His Reverence would be down immediately 
 after the meal, and I concluded to wait in the 
 hall. The walls were hung with pictures of some 
 large fish which had been caught in the lake. 
 Below each picture the weight of the monster and 
 the date of its capture, together with the name of 
 the person taking it, were inscribed in large letters. 
 I could not help interpreting these records — per- 
 haps uncharitably — as intimations to all good 
 Christians to pray for the souls of those whose 
 names were inscribed. 
 
 After more than an hour the Superior descended 
 the stairs. I stepped forward, saluting him hum- 
 bly, as became my position. He nodded, eyed me 
 sharj)ly, and directed me to go to his apartment 
 immediately after supper. This I did. 
 
 "How about your soul, my son Ambrosius?" 
 he asked me, solemnly. "Has the Lord shown 
 you grace ? Have you endured the probation ? " 
 
 Humbly, with my head bowed, I answered : 
 
143 
 
 "Most reverend Father, God in my solitude has 
 given me knowledge." 
 
 " Of what ? Of your guilt ? " 
 
 This I affirmed. 
 
 " Praise be to God ! " exclaimed the Superior. 
 "I knew, my son, that solitude would speak to 
 your soul with the tongue of an angel. I have 
 good tidings for you. I have written in your behalf 
 to the Bishop of Salzburg, lie summons you to 
 his palace. lie will consecrate you and give you 
 holy orders in person, and you will remain in his 
 city. Prepare yourself, for in three days you are 
 to leave us." 
 
 The Superior looked sharply into my face again, 
 but I did not permit him to see into my heart. I 
 asked for his benediction, bowed and left him. 
 Ah, then, it was for this that I was summoned ! 
 I am to go away forever. I must leave my very 
 life behind me ; I must renounce my care and 
 protection of Benedicta. God help her and me ! 
 
 me Ptonfe 
 
 antr tl)e 
 
 J^anaman's 
 
 3I9auat)ter. 
 
XXXIL 
 
 AM once more in my mount- 
 ain home, but to-morrow I 
 leave it forever. But Avhy 
 am I sad ? Does not a great 
 blessing await me ? Have 
 I not ever looked forward 
 to the moment of my con- 
 secration with longing, believing it would bring 
 me the supreme happiness of my life ? And 
 now that this great joy and blessing is almost 
 within my grasp, I am sad beyond measure. 
 
 Can I approach the altar of the Lord with a 
 lie on my Yi-ps ? Can I receive the holy sacra- 
 ment as an impostw ? The holy oil upon my 
 forehead would turn to fire and burn into my 
 brain, and I should be forever damned. 
 
 I might fall upon my knees before the Bishop 
 and say : " Expel me, for I do not seek after 
 the love of Christ, nor after holy and heavenly 
 things, but after the things of this world." 
 
 10 
 
 143 
 
Srje i«onft 14G 
 
 anD tilt 
 
 5S|anflman'» 
 Saufll)tec. 
 
 If I so spoke, I should be punished, but I 
 could endure that without a murmur. 
 
 If only I were sinless and could rightly be- 
 come a priest, I could be of great service to the 
 poor child. I should be able to give her infinite 
 blessings and consolations. I could be her con- 
 fessor and absolve her from sin, and, if I should 
 outlive her — which God forbid! — might by my 
 prayers even redeem her soul from Purgatory. 
 I could read masses for the souls of her poor 
 dead parents, already in torment. 
 
 Above all, if I succeeded in preserving her 
 from that one great and destructive sin for 
 which she secretly longs ; if I could take her 
 with me and place her under thy protection, 
 Blessed Virgin, that would be happiness in- 
 deed. 
 
 But where is the sanctuary that would receive 
 the hangman's daughter ? I know it but too 
 well : when I am gone from here, the Evil One, 
 in the winning shape he has assumed, will pre- 
 vail, and she will be lost in time and in eternity. 
 
XXXIII. 
 
 HAVE been at Benedicta's 
 cabin. 
 
 "Benedicta," I said, "I am 
 going away from here — 
 away from the mountains — 
 away from yon." 
 Slie grew pale, but said 
 nothing. For a moment I w-as overcome with 
 emotion ; I seemed to choke and could not con- 
 tinue. Presently I said : " Poor child, what will 
 become of you ? I know that your love for 
 Eochus is strong, and love is like a torrent which 
 nothing can stay. There is no safety for you but 
 in clinging to the cross of our Savior. Promise 
 me that you will do so — do not let me go away 
 in misery, Benedicta." 
 
 " Am I, then, so wicked ? " she said, without lift- 
 ing her eyes from the ground. "Can I not be 
 trusted ? " 
 
 "Ah, but, Benedicta, the enemy is strong, and 
 
 147 
 
Et>t ifttonft 
 
 148 
 
 anK t\)t yQ^ have a traitor to unbar the gates. Yonr own 
 ?eangraan»s j^^art, poor child, will at last betray you." 
 BauuDter. « jjg ^jii j^o^ j-^ami me," she murmured. " You 
 wrong him, sir, indeed you do." 
 
 But I knew that I did not, and was all the 
 more concerned to judge that the wolf would use 
 the arts of the fox. Before the sacred purity of 
 this maiden the base passions of the youth had not 
 dared to declare themselves. But none the less I 
 knew that an hour would come Vvdien she would 
 have need of all her strength, and it would fail 
 her. I grasped her arm and demanded that she 
 take an oath that she would throw herself into the 
 waters of the Black Lake rather than into the 
 arms of Rochus. But she would not reply. She 
 remained silent, her eyes fixed upon mine with a 
 look of sadness and reproach which filled my mind 
 with the most melancholy thoughts, and, turning 
 away, I left her. 
 
XXXIV. 
 
 ^OED, Savior of my soul, 
 whither hast thon led me ? 
 Here am I in the culprit's 
 tower, a condemned mur- 
 derer, and to-morrow at sun- 
 rise I shall be taken to the 
 gallows and hanged ! For 
 whoso slays a fellow being, he shall be slain ; that 
 is the law of God and man. 
 
 On this the last day of my life I have asked that 
 I be permitted to write, and my prayer is granted. 
 In the name of God and in the truth I shall now 
 set down all that occurred. 
 
 Leaving Benedicta, I returned to my cabin, and, 
 having packed everything, waited for the boy. But 
 he did not come : I should have to remain in the 
 mountains another night. I grew restless. The 
 cabin seemed too narrow to hold me ; the air too 
 heavy and hot to sustain life. Going outside, I lay 
 upon a rock and looked up at the sky, dark and 
 
 149 
 
arte £aort& 
 
 anlr t|)c 
 
 Jljanjiman's 
 
 3IDauflJ)ter. 
 
 150 
 
 glittering with stars. But my soul was not in the 
 heavens ; it was at the cabin by tlie Black Lake. 
 
 Suddenly I heard a faint, distant cvy, like a 
 human voice. I sat upright and listened, but all 
 Avas still. It may have been, I thought, the note 
 of some night-bird. I was about to lie down again, 
 when the cry was repeated, but it seemed to come 
 from another direction. It was the voice of Bene- 
 dicta ! It sounded again, and now it seemed to 
 come from the air — from the sky above my head, 
 and distinctly it called my name ; but, Mother 
 of God, what anguish was in those tones ! 
 
 I leapt from the rock. " Benedicta, Bene- 
 dicta ! " I cried aloud. There was no reply. 
 
 " Benedicta, I am coming to thee, child ! " 
 
 I sprang away in the darkness, along the path 
 to the Black Lake. I ran and leapt, stumbling 
 and falling over rocks and stumps of trees. My 
 limbs were bruised, my clothing was torn, but I 
 gave no heed ; Benedicta was in distress, and I 
 alone could save and guard her. I rushed on 
 until I reached the Black Lake. But at the cabin 
 all was quiet ; there was neither light nor sound ; 
 everything was as peaceful as a house of God. 
 
 After waiting a long time I left. The voice that 
 I had heard calling me could not have been Bene- 
 
151 JTjjc i«onfe 
 
 anU tlje 
 $^ansman'» 
 
 dicta's, but must have been that of some evil 
 
 spirit mocking me in my great sorrow. I meant 
 to return to my cabin, but an invisible hand 
 directed my steps another way ; and although it 
 led me to my death, I know it to have been the 
 hand of the Lord. 
 
 Walking on, hardly knowing whither, and un- 
 able to find the path by which I had descended, I 
 found myself at the foot of a precipice. Here was 
 a narrow path leading steeply upward along the 
 face of the cliff, and I began ascending it. After 
 I had gone up some distance I looked above, and 
 saw outlined against the starry sky a cabin perched 
 upon the very verge. It flashed through my 
 mind that that was the hunting-lodge of the Salt- 
 master's sou, and this the path by which he visited 
 Benedicta. Merciful Father ! he, Rochus, was 
 certain to come this way ; there could be no other. 
 I would wait for him here. 
 
 I crouched in the shadow and waited, thinking 
 what to say to him and imploring the Lord for 
 inspiration to change his heart and turn him from 
 his evil purpose. 
 
 Before long I heard him approaching from 
 above. I heard the stones displaced by his foot 
 roll down the steep slopes and leap into the lake 
 
grte ittonfe 152 
 
 anti tte 
 
 ISaujil)ter. 
 
 far below. Then I prayed God that if I should 
 be unable to soften the youth's heart he might 
 miss his footing and fall, too, like the stones ; for 
 it would be better that he should meet a sudden 
 and impenitent death, and his soul be lost, than 
 that he should live to destroy the soul of an inno- 
 cent girl. 
 
 Turning an angle of the rock, he stood directly 
 before me as, rising, I stepped into the faint light 
 of the new moon, lie knew me at once, and in a 
 haughty tone asked me what I wanted. 
 
 I replied mildly, explaining why I had barred 
 his way, and begging him to go back. He insulted 
 and derided me. 
 
 "You miserable cowler," he said, "will you 
 never cease meddling in my affairs ? Because the 
 mountain maids are so foolish as to praise your 
 white teeth and your big black eyes, must you fancy 
 yourself a man, and not a monk ? You are no 
 more to women than a goat ! " 
 
 I begged him to desist and to listen to me. I 
 threw myself on my knees and implored him, how- 
 ever he might despise me and my humble though 
 holy station, to respect Benedicta and spare her. 
 But he pushed me from him with his foot upon 
 
We struggled upward and downward along the path. 
 
jBiJanjjman's 
 BauQi)ter. 
 
 253 ^^^ i^Conft 
 
 anti ti)e 
 my breast. No longer master of myself, I sprang 
 
 erect, and called him an assassin and a villain. 
 
 At this he pulled a dagger from his belt, saying : 
 "I V, ill send you to Hell ! " 
 
 Quick as a flash of lightning my hand was upon 
 his wi-ist. I wrested the knife from him and flung 
 it behind me, crying: "Not with Aveapons, but 
 unarmed and equal we will fight to the death, and 
 the Lord shall decide ! " 
 
 We sprang upon one another with the fury of 
 wild animals, and were instantly locked together 
 with arms and hands. We struggled upward and 
 downward along the path, with the great wall of 
 rock on one side, and on the other the preci2:)ice, 
 the abyss, the waters of the Black Lake ! We 
 writhed and strained for the advantage, but the 
 Lord was against me, for he permitted my enemy 
 to overcome me and throw me down on the edge 
 of the precipice. I was in the grasp of a strong 
 enemy, whose eyes glowed like coals of fire. His 
 knee was on my breast and my head Ining over 
 the edge — my life was in his hands. I thought 
 he would push me over, but he made no attempt 
 to do so. He held me there between life and 
 death for a dreadful time, then said, in a low, hiss- 
 ing voice : " You see, monk, if I but move I can 
 
anti ti)e 
 33aual)tcr. 
 
 154 
 
 hurl you down the abyss like a stone. But I care 
 not to take your life, for it is no impediment to 
 me. The girl belongs to me, and to me you shall 
 leave her ; do you understand ? " 
 
 With that he rose and left me, going down the 
 path toward tlie lake. His footfalls had long died 
 away in the silent night before I was able to move 
 hand or foot. Great God ! I surely did not 
 deserve such defeat, humiliation and pain. I had 
 but wished to save a soul, yet Heaven permitted 
 me to be conquered by him who would destroy it ! 
 
 Finally I was able to rise, although in great 
 pain, for I was bruised by my fall, and could still 
 feel the fierce youth's knee upon my breast and his 
 fingers about my throat. I walked with difiiculty 
 back along the path, downward toward the lake. 
 Wounded as I was, I would return to Benedicta's 
 cabin and interpose my body between her and 
 harm. But my progress was slow, and I had fre- 
 quently to rest ; yet it was near dawn before I 
 gave uj:) the effort, convinced that I should be too 
 late to do the poor child the small service of yield- 
 ing up my remnant of life in her defense. 
 
 At early dawn I heard Eochus returning, with 
 a merry song upon his lips. I concealed myself 
 
155 Stjc ptonft 
 
 behind a rock, though not in fear, and he passed 
 without seeing me. 
 
 At this point there was a break in the wall of 
 the clijff, the i^ath crossing a great crevice which 
 clove the mountain as by a sword-stroke from the 
 arm of a Titan. The bottom was strewn with 
 loose boulders and overgrown with brambles and 
 shrubs, through which trickled a slender stream 
 of water fed by the melting snows above. Here I 
 remained for three days and two nights. I heard 
 the boy from the monastery calling my name as 
 he traversed the path searching for me, but I 
 made no answer. Not once did I quench my 
 burning thirst at the brook nor appease my hun- 
 ger with blackberries that grew abundantly on 
 every side. Thus I mortified the sinful flesh, 
 killed rebellious nature and subdued my spirit to 
 the Lord until at last I felt myself delivered from 
 all evil, freed from the bondage of an earthly love 
 and prej)ared to devote my heart and soul and life 
 to no woman but thee, Blessed Virgin ! 
 
 The Lord having wrought this miracle, my soul 
 felt as light and free as if wings were lifting me 
 to the skies, I praised the Lord in a loud voice, 
 shouting and rejoicing till the rocks rang with the 
 sound. I cried : " Hosanna ! Hosanna ! " I was 
 
JDauflttcr. 
 
 SCtc ifiConlt 256 
 
 anlr t^e 
 
 now prepared to go before the altar and receive 
 
 the holy oil ujDon my head. I was no longer my- 
 self. Ambrosias, the jDoor erring monk, was dead ; 
 I was an instrnment in the right hand of God to 
 execute Ilis holy will. I j^rayed for the delivery 
 of the soul of the beautiful maiden, and as I 
 l^rayed, behold ! there ajDpeared to me in the 
 splendor and glory of Heaven the Lord Himself, 
 attended by innumerable angels, filling half the 
 sky ! A great rapture enthralled my senses ; I was 
 dumb with happiness. With a smile of ineffable 
 benignity God spake to me : 
 
 "Because that thou hast been faithful to thy 
 trust, and through all the trials that I have sent 
 upon thee hast not faltered, the salvation of the 
 sinless maiden's soul is now indeed given into thy 
 hand." 
 
 "Thou, Lord, knowest," I replied, "that I am 
 without the means to do this work, nor know I 
 how it is to be done." 
 
 The Lord commanded me to rise and Avalk on, 
 and, turning my face away from the glorious 
 Presence, which filled the heart of the cloven 
 mountain with light, I obeyed, leaving the scene 
 of my purgation and regaining the path that led 
 np the face of the cliff. I began the ascent, walk- 
 
157 (5j,e p^onft 
 
 ing on and on in the splendor of the sunset, ^^^ *^^ 
 reflected from crimson clouds. ?qanaman s 
 
 Suddenly I felt impelled to stop and look down, ^DauuDter. 
 and there at my feet, shining red in the cloudlight, 
 as if stained with blood, lay the sharp knife of 
 Eochus. Now I understood why the Lord had 
 permitted that wicked youth to conquer me, 
 yet had moved him to spare my life. I had been 
 reserved for a more glorious jiurpose. And so was 
 placed in my hands the means to that sacred end. 
 My God, my God, how mysterious are Thy ways ! 
 
XXXV. 
 
 ^OU shall IcaTC her to me." 
 So had sjjoken the wicked 
 youth while holding me be- 
 tween life and death at the 
 precii)ice. He permitted 
 me to live, not from Christian 
 mercy, but because he de- 
 spised my life, a trivial thing to him, not worth 
 taking. He was sure of his prey ; it did not matter 
 if I were living or dead. 
 
 "You shall leave her to me." Oh, arrogant fool ! 
 Do you not know that the Lord holds His hand 
 over the flowers of the field and the young birds 
 in the nest? Leave Benedicta to you? — permit 
 you to destroy her body and her soul ? Ah, you 
 shall see how the hand of God shall be spread above 
 her to guard and save. There is yet time — that 
 soul is still spotless and undcfiled. Forward, then, 
 to fulfill the command of the Most High God ! 
 
 I knelt upon the spot where God had given into 
 my hand the means of her deliverance. My soul 
 
anU tl)e 
 JB^anQtnan's 
 
 
 160 
 
 was wholly absorbed in the mission intrusted to 
 me. My heart was in an ecstasy, and I saw plainly, 
 as in a vision, the triumphant completion of the 
 act which I had still to do. 
 
 I arose, and, concealing the knife in my cowl, 
 retraced my steps, going downward toward the 
 Black Lake. V The new moon looked like a divine 
 wound in the sky, as if some hand had plunged a 
 dagger into Heaven's holy breast.^^- 
 
 Bencdicta's door was ajar, and I stood outside a 
 long time, gazing upon the beautiful picture pre- 
 sented to my eyes. A bright fire on the hearth lit 
 up the room. Opposite the fire sat Benedicta, 
 combing her long golden hair. Unlike it was the 
 last time that I had stood before her cabin and 
 gazed in upon it, her face was full of happiness 
 and had a glory that I had never imagined in it. 
 A sensuous smile played about her lips while she 
 sang in a low, sweet voice the air of a love song of 
 the people. Ah me ! she was beautiful ; she 
 looked like a bride of Heaven. But though her 
 voice was as that of an angel, it angered me, and 
 I called out to her : 
 
 " What are you doing, Benedicta, so late in the 
 evening ? You sing as if you expected your lover, 
 and arrange your hair as for a dance. It is but 
 
161 Srte IWonft 
 
 antr tije 
 
 three days since I, yonr brother and only friend, 
 left yon, in sorrow and despair. And now you are 
 as happy as a bride. " 
 
 She sprang wp and manifested great joy at see- 
 ing me again, and hastened to kiss my hands. 
 But she had no sooner glanced into my face than 
 she uttered a scream of terror and recoiled from 
 me as if I had been a fiend from Hell ! 
 
 But I approaclied her and asked: " Why do you 
 adorn yourself so late in the night ? — why are you 
 so happy ? Have the three days been long enough 
 for you to fall ? Are you the mistress of Rochus? " 
 
 She stood staring at me in horror. She asked : 
 " Where have you been and why do you come ? 
 You look so ill I Sir, sit, I pray you, and rest. 
 You are pale and you shake with cold. I will 
 make you a warm drink and you will feel better." 
 
 She was silenced by my stern gaze. " I have not 
 come to rest and be nursed by you," I said. "I 
 am here because the Lord commands. Tell me why 
 you sang." 
 
 She looked up at me with the innocent expres- 
 sion of a babe, and i-eplied: " Because I had for the 
 moment forgotten that you were going away, and 
 I was happy." 
 
 " Happy ? " 
 11 
 
 Ji^anfiman's 
 Uausttcr. 
 
anlr t})e 
 
 ^ansman's 
 Baus1)tet. 
 
 "Yes — he has been here." 
 
 "Who? Eochus?" 
 
 She nodded. "He was so good," she said. 
 " He will ask his father to consent to see me, and 
 perhaps take me to his great house and persuade 
 the Reverend Superior to remove the curse from 
 my life. "Would not that he fine ? Bat then," 
 she added, with a sudden change of voice and man- 
 ner, lowering her eyes, "perha^Ds you would no 
 longer care for me. It is because I am poor and 
 friendless." 
 
 " What ! he will persuade his father to befriend 
 you ? — to take you to his home ? — you, the hang- 
 man's daughter ? He, this reckless youth, at war 
 with God and God's ministers, will move the 
 Church! Oh, lie, lie, lie! Bcnedicta — lost, 
 betrayed Benedicta ! By your smiles and by your 
 tears I know that you believe the monstrous 
 promises of this infamous villain." 
 
 "Yes," she said, inclining her head as if she 
 were making a confession of faith before the altar 
 of the Lord, "I believe him." 
 
 "Kneel, then," I cried, "and i)raise the Lord 
 for sending one of His chosen to save your soul 
 from temporal and eternal perdition I " 
 
1^^ EJje J«onft 
 
 At these words she trembled as in great fear. ^^^ ^^^ 
 "What do you wish me to do ? " she exclaimed. ^anjiman's 
 
 "To pray that your sins may be forgiven." Baufljiter. 
 
 A sudden rapturous impulse seized my soul. " I 
 am a priest," I cried, "anointed and ordained by 
 God Himself, and in the name of the Father, and 
 of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, I forgive you 
 your only sin, which is your love. I give you 
 absolution without repentance. I free your soul 
 from the taint of sin because you will atone for it 
 with your blood and life." 
 
 With these words, I seized her and forced her 
 down upon her knees. But she wanted to live ; 
 she cried and wailed. She clung to my knees and 
 entreated and implored in the name of God and 
 the Blessed Virgin. Then she sprang to her feet 
 and attempted to run away. I seized her again, 
 but she broke from ray grasp and ran to the open 
 door, crying : " Rochus ! Rochus ! help, oh, help !" 
 
 Springing after her, I grasped her by the 
 shoulder, turned her half-round and plunged 
 the knife into her breast. . . . 
 
 I held her in my arms, pressed her against my 
 heart and felt her warm blood upon my body. 
 She opened her eyes and fixed npon me a look of 
 reproach, as if I had robbed her of a life of hap- 
 
me i«onfe 164 
 
 anD tl)e 
 
 55§an2man's 
 JSaufijjter. 
 
 piness. Then her eyes slowly closed, she gave a 
 long, shuddering sigh, her little head turned upon 
 my shoulder, and so she died. 
 
 I wrapped the beautiful body in a white sheet, 
 leaving the face uncovered, and laid it uj^on the 
 floor. But the blood tinged the linen, so I parted 
 her long golden hair, spreading it over the crim- 
 son roses upon her breast. As I had made her a 
 bride of Heaven, I took from the image of the 
 Virgin the wreath of edelweiss and placed it on 
 Benedicta's brow ; and now I remembered the 
 edelweiss which she had once brought me to com- 
 fort me in my penance. 
 
 Then I stirred the fire, which cast upon the 
 shrouded figure and the beautiful face a rich red 
 light, as if God's glory had descended there to 
 enfold her. It was caught and tangled in the 
 golden tresses that lay upon her breast, so that 
 they looked a mass of curling flame. 
 
 And so I left her. 
 
XXXVI. 
 
 DESCENDED the moimt- 
 aiu by precipitous paths, 
 but the Lord guided my 
 steps so tliat I neither stum- 
 bled uor fell into an abyss. 
 At tlie dawning of the day 
 I arrived at the monastery, 
 rang the bell and waited until the gate Avas 
 opened. The brother porter evidently thought 
 me a fiend, for he raised a howl that aroused the 
 whole monastery . I went straight to the room of 
 the Suj)erior, stood before him in my blood-stained 
 garments, and, telling him for what deed the Lord 
 had chosen me, informed him that I was now an 
 ordained priest. At this they seized me, put me 
 into the tower, and, holding court upon me, con- 
 demned me to death as if I were a murderer. Oh, 
 the fools, the poor demented fools ! 
 
 One person has come to me to-day in my dun- 
 geon, who fell upon her knees before me, kissed 
 
 1G5 
 

 16G 
 
 my hands and adored me as God's chosen instrn- 
 ment — Amula, the brown maiden. She alone 
 
 3iau2!)tec. 
 
 has discovered that I have done a great and glori- 
 ous deed. 
 
 I have asked Amnla to chase away the vultures 
 from my body, for Benedicta is in Heaven. 
 
 I shall soon be with her. Praise be to God ! 
 Hosanna ! Amen. 
 
 [To this old manuscript are added the following 
 lines in another hand : " On the fifteenth day of 
 October, in the year of our Lord 1680, in this 
 place. Brother Ambrosius v/as hanged, and on the 
 following day his body was buried under the gal- 
 lows, close to that of the girl Benedicta, whom he 
 killed. This Benedicta, though called the hang- 
 man's daughter, was (as is now known through 
 declarations of the youth Rochus) the bastard 
 child of the Saltmaster by the hangman's wife. 
 It is also veritably attested by the same youth that 
 the maiden cherished a secret and forbidden love 
 for him who slew her in ignorance of her passion. 
 In all else Brother Ambrosius was a faithful serv- 
 ant of the Lord. Pray for him, pray for him ! "] 
 
 THE END. 
 
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