Told by the death's head

"Now, my son," he said, when he had delivered his instructions, "take my yataghan, my beautiful yataghan, and cut off my head—only don't hack it off as a butcher would with a cleaver. Swing the yataghan, thus, in a half-circle—easily, gracefully, as you would the bow of a violin. I will kneel here at your feet, bend forward, thus; then do you strike just here: between these two segments of the vertebræ. Be sure to keep firm hold on the handle to prevent the blade from slipping—"

He gave me so many directions, kept on talking so long that Satan, who is ever at one's elbow, gave my arm a sudden thrust, and, before I knew what had happened, a body minus a head lay at my feet, while a head minus a body was rolling down the hill—

"Homicidium!" dictated the chair to the notary. To this the prince appended:

"Under extenuating circumstances. We must not ignore the fact that the deed was committed at the urgent request of the decapitated—under approval of the Koran, and instigated, I might say, forced, to the act by the wicked one at the perpetrator's elbow."

"It was killing a human being, all the same!" said Hugo, "and I had cause soon afterward to repent most bitterly what I had done. After I had committed the bloody deed I set out to overtake my comrades. They had secured much valuable booty which they were carrying on their backs. When I came up with them, hobbling on one leg and leaning on my crutch, they broke into loud laughter:

"What the devil is the matter with you?" queried the leader.

"I am all used up!" I groaned. "I killed an old Turk, whose lame leg prevented him from running away with the rest of them; and before he gave up the ghost he cursed me and prayed that I might be compelled to hobble along on a crutch for the rest of my life. He had hardly got the words out of his throat before my leg became as you see it, and I can't straighten it."

"That comes of standing in the swamp—cold water will affect effeminate fellows like you in that way," observed Nyedzviedz. "But don't worry, we have among us one who understands how to cure such maladies. Ho, there! Przepiorka, come hither."

I was frightened, I can tell you! If my leg were examined it would be found to be in a sound and healthy condition. But there was no help for it—I could not escape an examination. So I drew up the calf of the leg so tightly against the lower part of the thigh that Przepiorka, after he had tried several times in vain to straighten it pronounced it permanently crippled.

On hearing this decision, I forgot my role and would have straightened the leg to convince myself that it could be done; but, what was my consternation and alarm to find that I was unable to do it. The affliction I had pretended had come upon me in earnest! God had punished me. I was a miserable cripple, unable to take a single step without the koltuk-dengenegi.

How I cursed him who had left it to me in legacy!

CHAPTER II.
THE BERDICZOV MONASTERY.

From near and far—from distant lands even, all manner of crippled folk, and invalids afflicted with divers maladies, journeyed to Berdiczov in search of healing. The indigent limped and hobbled on crutches to the miracle-working spot; the well-to-do rode on mules; the peasant was trundled in a barrow by his sturdy spouse; the tradesman travelled in his two-wheeled ox-cart; and the magnate was borne in his sedan-chair by his servants.

Berdiczov monastery was the property of the Premonstrant monks. It stood on an elevation in the center of a charming valley. It was strongly fortified, and surrounded by thick walls, which were protected outside by a deep moat and palisades.

A thermal spring at the foot of the hill fed the moat and turned the wheels of a grist mill. The only entrance to the monastery was over a narrow drawbridge that spanned the moat at its deepest part. The multitude of visitors to the healing spring found lodgings in the little village outside the walls of the monastery; and only one hundred worshippers at a time were permitted to enter the chapel inside the gates. If the crowd gathered at the drawbridge at the hour for services exceeded that number then mass was celebrated all day long, one hundred of the faithful entering at one door, as the hundred that had worshipped passed out by the other. Day and night guards armed to the teeth patrolled the walls and the court-yard; and no visitor was allowed to enter with weapons of any sort, for enormous wealth lay heaped within the walls of the monastery. When I saw the heaps on heaps of valuables in the treasure-chamber, I no longer wondered that Nyedzviedz desired to possess it. There was a massive altar of pure silver, the gift of King Stanislaus; golden alms basins, engraved with the name and history of the donor, Count Leszinsky; images of saints with mosaics of priceless gems; golden chalices; shrines glittering with rubies and diamonds; gemmed thuribles; antique crowns which had once adorned crania twice the size of the heads of our day; costly reliquaries; and, amid all this splendor, countless numbers of crutches and staves, the votive offerings of the afflicted who had found healing in the waters of the spring.

The crutches and staves were the first objects to attract my eye, and I said to myself: "How gladly would I add to this collection the old Turk's koltuk-dengenegi with all its gold, could I but find healing for my crippled leg."

When the choral began, I can't describe the feeling which took possession of me as I listened to the beautiful melody. I had no thought then for the treasures of gold and silver—no glance for anything but the image of the saint above the altar. I could not escape from the reproachful eyes it fixed on me. I felt that it was reading all the wicked thoughts in my breast. But, as I listened to the beautiful music, all the evil intentions I had brought with me to the monastery faded from my heart; and when the last sounds died away, there was not, in all the devout company, a more bitterly repentant wretch than I. When the service was concluded, the worshippers passed in front of the prior to receive his benediction. The prior was a venerable saint with a flowing white beard; his countenance expressed infinite goodness and benevolence.

We had been told not to offer any gifts to the monks on entering the monastery; but to leave whatever we might think fit to bestow, on departing.

The venerable prior dispensed his blessing to all alike. He did not inquire if the recipient were a believer, or a heretic. Christians, Jews, Mohammedans, all alike, received the godly man's benediction.

I quitted the chapel wholly repentant. I had completely forgotten the errand on which I had been sent. Not once did it occur to me that I was there as a spy, to examine the walls, the mortars, to learn the strength of the garrison.

I took my place in the procession of cripples, and hobbled along with them, mumbling the prayers prescribed for us.

When we arrived at the miracle-working spring, I and my fellow-sufferers were undressed and placed on rafts in the water—rich and poor alike, no distinction was made between the magnate and the beggar.

I can't say exactly how long I remained in the water; but when I came out, the crook had left my leg, it was straight and sound as before I came into possession of the old Turk's crutch.

"Miraculum! Miraculum!" shouted the entire company; while I wept like a little child, for joy and gratitude.

With my crutch over my shoulder, instead of under it I returned to the prior, who received me with a benignant smile.

I knelt at his feet and asked him to receive my confession. I told him every thing; that I was there at the behest of the haidemaken leader to spy out the strength of the fortifications and the garrison; that the band was preparing to assault the monastery, so soon as they should hear from me; that they intended to bring with them a powerful field-gun, with which to force a breach in the walls through which the four-hundred fearless robbers would enter and overpower the soldiery. When I had concluded, and the prior had given me absolution, he said:

"Now, my son, go back to those who sent you here and tell them what you have learned. Let them come with their field-gun, and do you come with them. When you are ordered to bombard the walls, do you obey—"

"What? father;" I interrupted in astonishment. "You advise me to do that?"

"Yes. On the bombardier depends the effect of the bombardment! It rests with him to aim well, or ill! Better you at the gun than another!"

I understood the sagacious reply, and said:

"I shall take good care not to aim well, father."

"On you, my son, will it depend that the relief troops I shall send for reach here in time to save us from the robbers."

"And you may rest assured, father, that I shall know how to prolong the siege!"

As a pledge that I would keep faith with him I gave him my crutch, gratitude also prompting the gift, for, not even a gold-filled crutch is too great a price to pay for a sound leg!

"I will keep it for you, my son," said the benevolent sage. "If you succeed in averting the danger which threatens us you shall have the crutch back, and something in addition—something of more value than gold: aid to reform. Take this image of the Holy Virgin to your wife with my blessing."

A changed man at heart, I returned to the cavern, where, however, I was forced again to tell untruths, in order to deceive the robbers. But it was for a good cause.

My comrades received me with gratulatory shouts when they saw me walking on two healthy legs. I told them I had been healed by magic—by the incantations of a witch, and they believed me! Had I told the truth, and that I had received the blessing of the prior, it would have made them suspicious.

We now held a council of war, at which I delivered my report. I knew from experience that, to gain credence for a lie, one must invest it with a modicum of truth. Therefore, I described, without deviating one iota from the truth, the treasures I had seen, and even added to them—as, for instance: I said there were barrels filled with gold and silver, which made the robbers' mouths water. Nyedzviedz was full of ambitious plans. He intended, so soon as he got money enough, to combine under his leadership all the predatory bands in the Carpathian region, and with them invade and plunder the wealthy Galician cities, castles, and monasteries. He felt confident that the common people would be glad to aid in plundering the prelates and nobles.

I described the fortifications of Berdiczov monastery as almost impregnable, when the truth was, that I could, with the culverin, have battered down the walls the first day while the rusty old mortars would do little damage among the beleaguerers. I ascribed to the prior the strategic talents of a field-marshall. My description of the moat, with the formidable palisades concealed under the water, quite discouraged the robbers from the plan they had made to swim across it, and storm the walls.

Indeed, I told such astounding tales about the powder mines under the walls and moat, that their confidence in me became absolute when I sketched my plan of assault. I proposed to batter the fortifications in such a manner, that the debris would fall into and fill up the moat, which would enable us to cross it without injury, and enter through the breaches I had made in the walls. I won the leader's favor and approval to such an extent that he committed the entire conduct of the important expedition into my hands.

At the conclusion of the council, I asked as a special favor to be allowed to spend a day with my beloved Madus before we set out on the expedition.

Nyedzviedz at first was unwilling to consent. "I know," he said, "just how women-folk are. It is best for a soldier to have nothing to do with them. Their tears are sure to melt a soft heart."

But I persisted in my request, and at last received permission to visit the Viszpa Ogrod.

It was a beautiful autumn afternoon when I descended the steep path to the secluded valley. While yet some distance from our little cottage, I heard my Madus singing sweetly—I can hear her now, and see her as she came joyfully to meet me.

How happy she was!

The poor child believed I had come to stop, and as I did not want to cloud her joy, I put off until the moment of my departure, telling her that I was again to accompany her father on a distant expedition.

One day at least I would spend happily. So, I let my Madus tell me all that had happened in the valley during my absence; I heard also how much dried fruit, how many smoked trout, how many cheeses, she had in store for the winter; how many yards of beautiful linen she had woven from the flax she had cultivated with her own hands.

Last of all, she exhibited, with blushing cheeks, her little treasures: cunning little caps, and jackets, at sight of which my heart leapt for joy in my bosom. She confided to me in a whisper that, when Christmas should arrive, her Bethlehem crib would have received its occupant.

Oh, how gladly would I have remained with her! But it could not be. I had more ambitious plans for her. I was bent on escaping with her to the great world, where she should—as she deserved—become a fine lady.

After she had told me everything about herself, she asked me to relate what I had done while absent. When I told her how successful the expedition had proved, I found that the Madus who tended her doves and made cheeses in the Viszpa Ogrod, was vastly different from the Madus who had once accompanied the haidemaken expeditions. She grew pale with horror when I described the slaughter of the caravan; and the occurrence which resulted in my becoming the inheritor of the old Turk's crutch, and a lame leg. She became more composed, however, when I told her about the marvelous cure at the healing spring; and quite recovered her composure when I gave her the image of the Holy Virgin the prior had sent her. Ah me! that image was her death, as well as her salvation.

The next morning I told her I had to leave her again. She sought with tears and caresses to dissuade me from going. She clasped her arms around my neck, then flung herself at my feet, and clasped my knees—she seemed unable to control her wild despair.

I have often thought since that the poor child had a presentiment she would never again behold me in this life.

I sought in vain to comfort her; in vain I assured her that I would never leave her again after I returned from this expedition, from which I hoped to secure what would enable me to establish a home for her in some large city. She was inconsolable.

She accompanied me to the entrance to the rock-corridor, and would have gone clear to the cavern, had not her father met us just as we were entering the passage. He frightened her by saying it would be unsafe to venture among the haidemaken in her condition, as all robbers entertained the superstitious belief that the fourth finger from the hand of an unborn babe rendered the possessor invulnerable to bullet and sword.

Nyedzviedz would not even allow a last embrace, but thrust us roughly apart; and forced me to precede him into the corridor. I kept looking back from time to time, so long as the entrance remained in sight. My Madus stood, looking after me, in the circular opening of the rocky wall; she seemed like a saint encompassed by a halo of light, and as the corridor grew darker and more gloomy the radiant image at my back increased in brilliance until a sudden turn hid the beautiful vision from my sight.

That same evening we set out for Berdiczov—four-hundred haidemaken, with the culverin.

CHRISTMAS.

It was early Autumn when we began the siege, which I conducted in so skillful—from my point of view!—a manner, that December found us still outside the walls of the monastery. Three times I changed the position of our assaulting forces; but took good care every time to select a point far enough from the walls to prevent our shots from damaging them to any considerable extent.

Nyedzviedz kept urging me to a nearer approach: he said we were so distant, that the cannon-balls from the fortifications had to roll over the ground to reach our lines. So, one day, after he had examined the ground, and discovered what he believed to be a more advantageous position, I was forced, in order not to rouse his suspicions, to comply with his request. While superintending the throwing up of intrenchments the first night I managed to secrete under the earth-works a keg of powder, and in the morning I told the leader that extreme caution would be necessary, now that we were so much nearer to the fortifications, as the monks were having powder-mines laid under our breast-works. I had heard peculiar noises during the night, I told him, and, suspecting what was being done, I had scattered a few peas on the head of a drum standing on the ground. The lively dancing of the peas had convinced me that my suspicions were correct.

But the leader was incredulous. He decided to take observations for himself; and would spend the following night in the trenches, when he could also watch the result of our bombardment. This would make it impossible for me to carry out my plans for exploding the keg of powder hidden in the breast-works. But, I was not to be outdone. I happened to remember an expedient I had once employed with success, and resorted to it again: I drew the fuse through a long reed, one end of which I thrust into the keg.

I had to be very cautious; for Nyedzviedz had a nose that could smell a match cord at long range; but with the fuse inside the reed, I could prevent the fumes from getting into the range of his olfactor.

The powder exploded at the right moment, just when the leader was bending eagerly over the breast-work to peer after a bomb. After the smoke and dust cleared away, I drew him from under the heap of earth, from which only his legs protruded. He had not been injured in the least, but all desire to assault the enemy at so close a range had fled, and I was allowed to return to our former position, on the brow of a hill, a considerable distance farther from the fortifications.

I consoled the dissatisfied haidemaken with the assurance that, when the real cold weather of winter should set in, the moat would freeze over; then it would be an easy matter to storm the walls at close range. I did not think it necessary to tell them that the warm spring would prevent the water in the moat from freezing. In the meantime came Christmas—an anxiously longed-for day in many respects. With the dawn of Christmas morning came a furious snow-storm, the north wind flinging down on us such masses of flakes that it was impossible to see ten steps away.

It was just the sort of weather I had calculated on. The bombardment had to cease, as the monastery was completely hidden from view behind the veil of snow. The haidemaken retired to their tents, and amused themselves, gaming with dice and cards, for what stakes do you imagine? They had no money, remember! Why, the winner paid, and the loser received, a box on the ear! I hadn't any fondness for the game myself; but my comrades seemed to enjoy it hugely.

While gaming, drinking, cursing, were going on in the other tents, I sat in my own, alone, and silent, pondering over my past years. I recalled the different anniversaries of the blessed day, beginning with the first I could remember when, held in my mother's arms, I removed from the Christmas-tree my first ginger-bread doll, which I was loath to eat because of its beautiful golden hue.

Then, my thoughts turned to the humble cot in the Viszpa Ogrod; and I wondered, with a strange trembling in my bosom, if the little Bethlehem crib, my Madus had prepared for the reception of a precious occupant, now held its treasure.

The monastery bells were ringing for the Christmas service; on the bastion a long procession of monks with innumerable lamps was moving toward the chapel.

The wind was driving the clouds across the sky, and hundreds of witch-forms rioted above the camp, in the faint light which came from a mist-veiled moon.

The snow-fall had ceased; only the wind, which was scattering the storm-clouds, still swept with unabated vigor across the plain, packing the fine snow more compactly together.

Suddenly, amid the noise of carousing and shouting which came from the neighboring tents, I heard a sound that made me drop quickly to my knees, and lay my ear close to the ground. At last! At last! They were coming! I could hear distinctly the hoof-beats, when they crossed the rocky road from which the wind had swept the snow. Then, the sound ceased—they were come to the plain where the snow muffled the noise of the hoofs. Duke Visznovieczky's dragoons were approaching at a brisk trot to the assistance of Berdiczov monastery.

I did not wait for them to come up. In the dark all cows are black! I said to myself: "It will be useless to try to convince the dragoon who raises his sword against me that I am this one, and not the other one!" So I wrapped myself in my mantle, slipped from the tent, and ran fleetly toward the monastery.

When I paused to look back, after the relief troop had begun the attack on the robber camp, I saw the witch-dance I had seen earlier, it had descended to the earth, and with it was joined a tumult of demons; of black forms, and white, darting hither and thither; of furious sword cuts; frenzied cries; mad flight, and swift pursuit!

The early morning assault was successful. The dragoons routed the haidemaken without a shot. What became of my comrades I cannot say, for I continued on my way to the monastery, where I shouted myself hoarse before the draw-bridge was lowered to admit me.

Early mass had just been concluded. The monks with their tall candlesticks, chanting a psalm of praise, led the procession returning from the chapel; the cripples hobbling in the rear, hummed the antiphony. But, hei! didn't the devout company break ranks quickly when I appeared before them with the announcement:

"Duke Visznovieczky's dragoons are come, and have attacked the haidemaken camp!"

The psalm-singing ceased at once; and, instead, everybody was shouting: "To arms! To arms!"

Even the canopy-bearers left the prior in the middle of the court-yard, and ran to fetch their arms; while the cripples hopped about on one leg and brandished their crutches and staves.

By this time we could see that the beleaguerers were fleeing before the dragoons in every direction. The valiant burgers who, at the beginning of the siege, had taken refuge in the monastery, could now no longer repress their heroic feelings. Seizing whatever would serve as a weapon, the brave fellows dashed across the draw-bridge and sped toward the field of battle; the reverend fathers followed at a more dignified pace; the cripples brought up the rear, and assisted the worthy burgers to complete the work of destruction begun by the dragoons, by cutting off the feet of those haidemaken who had already been decapitated.

Whether Nyedzviedz had succeeded in escaping the fate of many of his comrades, I could not learn then; nor did I care! I was too thankful that I had been spared from destruction and delivered from the clutch of the robber-band. Therewith ended my career as a haidemak.

The prisoner here paused in his confession, feeling that he, as well as the court, needed a rest.

"I am inclined to believe," observed the prince, "that the accused rehabilitated himself through his valiant act. So much as he sinned, so much he made good! He was healed by a miracle of God; therefore, it behooves us earthly judges to consider well before we pass sentence where the Heavenly Judge granted absolution."

To this the chair, with obvious irritation, made reply: "If your highness intends to permit this malefactor to extenuate, in a like manner, all the rest of his misdeeds, when he gets to the end of the list we shall feel that he deserves canonization instead of punishment."

PART III.
IN THE SERVICE OF THE DUKE.

CHAPTER I.
MALACHI.

One day was not long enough for all I had to tell. I could have spent every day of the week in the confessional, pouring into the ear of the good Father Agapitus the sins which burdened my conscience. And one day I confessed, too, that I was becoming weary of the life in the monastery, where there was nothing to do but tend to the sick all day long; and that I wanted to go back to the world—if not to my former sinful life.

After I had confessed, I ventured to ask the worthy father to recommend me to some Polish noble, with whom I should have little work and much amusement. There were many such places, I said, where the services of a man of my stamp were required.

"My dear son," returned the worthy father, "I cannot recommend you to a Christian man of the world, for, although I could tell him that you are a pious confrater now, I could not say that you have always been honest. I know just the contrary, and I cannot give false witness. But I will do what I can for you. Here is the crutch you left with us—the gold is still in it. Take it, garb yourself in beggar raiment, and limp to Lemberg, where lives a Master Malachi in the Jewish quarter of the city. You need only to inquire for him, and you will be directed to his house. He is a wicked man, in league with Satan. He deserves to have been sent to the scaffold long ago—and he will get there should the Inquisition be established. Malachi is the man for your needs. Tell him what you require, he will understand you—especially if you tell him what your crutch contains!"

I could understand clearly that a pious man like Father Agapitus could do nothing for me—so notorious a sinner! He could not give me a letter of recommendation, with false dates; it was enough if he directed me where to find an accomplished counterfeiter, who could supply my wants. So, I kissed his hand in gratitude; bade him farewell, and, with my crutch under my shoulder, set out for Lemberg, begging my way so that no one should suspect that I carried in my crutch the wherewith to pay for food and lodging.

When I arrived in Lemberg I repaired at once to the Jews' quarter, where the streets are so narrow two wagons cannot pass one another. Directly I entered the principal thoroughfare, which seemed a veritable rag-fair from one end to the other, I was surrounded by a swarm of noisy children.

I took from my pocket a denarius, held it up before them, and said I would give it to the lad who would conduct me to the house of Malachi, whereupon the youngsters began to quarrel as to which of them should become the possessor of the coin. The largest scamp among them, who succeeded by force of his superior size and strength to vanquish his fellows, offered himself as guide.

He led me a pretty chase, through numerous byways and alleys, where there was hardly room for two persons to pass, to a shop in front of which was sitting an aged dame, with her cap drawn down to her eyebrows.

Said my guide, after I had placed the denarius in his hand:

"This woman knows where Malachi lives—she will tell you;" and before I could stop him, the little rascal was off down the street as fast as his legs could carry him.

I turned to the crone, who kept nodding her old head as if she were assenting to anything I might say to her, took from my pocket a Marien-groschen, and holding it toward her, said:

"Here, mother, this pretty coin shall be yours if you will direct me to Malachi's house."

She nodded—as much as to say "very good;" rose from her chair, shuffled into the shop, where she filled a small vial with red Polish brandy. This she handed to me with one hand, at the same time extending the other for the money.

"I don't want brandy—I want to know where Malachi lives?" I shouted at the top of my voice.

The dame trotted back into the shop and brought a bottle of green Russian brandy.

The little scamp had left me to deal with a deaf woman! When I bawled into her ear for the third time the name of Malachi, she fetched from the shop a packet of insect powder which she offered in exchange for the Marien-groschen.

Then I bethought me of an expedient which is usually successful in like cases: I took from my pocket a crown and held it toward the dame. This cure for deafness proved effective.

"Oh, you want to find Malachi?" she said in a cautious whisper, nodding understandingly. "Follow me."

She closed and locked the shop-door, opened a little gate at the corner of the house, led me across a vegetable garden hung with soiled clothes; across a second; thence through a narrow passage, between two old buildings, into a wood-shed; from there into a cellar; then over a swinging bridge across an ill-smelling canal; and, lastly, through a long, seemingly interminable corridor, at the end of which she knocked with her staff at a wooden door, at the same time whispering in my ear, and taking the crown from my hand:

"I can't tell you where Malachi lives; but I have brought you to the thaumaturgus, who knows everything; he will tell you where to find Malachi."

The door opened, and I saw before me a venerable man with silvery hair and beard. He was blind. His tall form was enveloped in a black silk robe girt about the waist by an oriental sash. From his garb, I concluded that a coin of greater value would be necessary to procure the information I desired.

"Are you the man who knows everything?" I inquired.

The old gentleman was not in the least chary of words. With great readiness he declared that he understood the language of the birds of the air; the speech of the beasts of the field; that he could converse with dragons; could discover subterranean springs; could tell any man whether or no he was the son of his father; could even understand the tongue in which demons spake—

"But," I interrupted, "I don't want to know any of these things. If you will tell me where Malachi lives, I will pay for the information."

"Ah, my son!" he responded, turning his sightless eyes heavenward; "that is a difficult question to answer. There are in this world as many Malachis as there are flowers in the field, and stars in the sky. There are seventy-seven in this very city; a Malachi Mizraim; a Malachi Meschugge; a Malachi Choschen; Malachi Pinkas; Malachi Honnowas—How do I know which Malachi you want?"

"I want the one who is a—counterfeiter," I answered, with some hesitation.

"Ah, my son!" again ejaculated the venerable sage, shaking his head sadly, "how sorry I am to hear that you are on such evil ways! All the Malachis with whom I have to do are honest, God-fearing men."

I saw plainly that I should have to assist the old gentleman's memory; I pressed a gold coin into his palm. He turned it over and over in his fingers; tested it in various ways; and, after convincing himself that it was genuine, he delivered this apothegmatic solution of the riddle:

"My son, he whom you seek, I cannot find. I have never seen him—I am blind. We will consult the Miracle."

He stepped back into the room, to the table, where he groped about with his hands among the different objects, until he found a long steel needle. This he thrust between the leaves of a heavy book lying on the table, opened it, and placing his forefinger at the point of the needle, where it rested on the page, said, in a prophetic tone:

"He whom the Miracle designates is Ben Malachi Peixoto, the Portuguese—not I, but the Miracle says so."

"And where shall I find this Portuguese?" I asked.

"When you go from the door of my dwelling, you will find his directly opposite. Knock twice, then once, then twice again, and you will be admitted. And now, my son, go your way in peace!"

A stocky youth, with a candle, conducted me down a dark stairway, opened the door, and I found myself in the same street from which I had started on my quest. Malachi's house was the first one on the corner. I had been led a tramp, for half a day, hither and thither, up and down, through the entire Ghetto, to reach the first house in it!

I knocked on the door as I had been directed; it was opened by a quince-colored lad. I cannot say for certain whether it was a lad or a lass, I think, though, it was a lad. I could not understand the language he spoke—indeed, I don't believe it was a language at all! He conducted me up a creaking staircase, into a darkened room, in the corner of which crouched a human form with its back to the door. He did not turn at my entrance, but kept his face turned from me all the time I was in the room.

In front of him was a mirror in which he could see my reflection. The fleeting glimpse I caught of his face in the glass, told me that the mysterious creature had no beard; his face was quite smooth, which I believe is the fashion among Portuguese Jews; it had been embrocated with orpiment, which eats off the hair of the beard—a Mosaic law prohibiting the use of metal to remove hair from the face.

"Is Malachi at home?" I inquired.

"Malachi is at home; what do you want of him?"

The man spoke in the third person, so that I could not have sworn that he to whom I addressed my inquiries was Malachi or not.

"I will tell you my errand as briefly as possible," said I. "I want to secure a position in the household of Duke Visznovieczky, and require a patent of nobility to certify to my noble birth. I also want an academic testimonial; a certificate of baptism and confirmation in the Roman Catholic Church; and, lastly, I want a letter of recommendation from some grand duke or other, which testifies to my erudition, and skill in all the sciences, as well as to my excellent character. Of course I don't expect you to furnish me with all these documents for nothing. I am willing to pay your price for them. How much do you ask?"

The man replied to my reflection in the mirror: "Malachi's answer to your insolent request is: You have applied to the wrong person. Malachi does not meddle with such criminal doings. Moreover, Malachi has nothing whatever to do with ragged beggars like yourself. If you desire to become such a knight as you describe, and have the money to pay for the transformation, go to Malachi's cousin, Malchus, the tailor, who sells gentlemen's clothing. He lives on the corner of Bethel street, beside the fountain. From him you can buy all manner of fine raiment. Malchus will transform you to a noble knight—if you have the money to pay for it. And now be gone from here, and don't come back again, for Malachi is an honest man whose lips do not utter falsehoods; his fingers have never been stained with the ink of forgery."

Firmly believing that he was the Malachi I sought, I departed from his house with a disappointed heart, and betook myself to Bethel street, to the house beside the fountain, where I found Malchus the tailor. I would at least exchange my beggar's garb for the raiment of a gentleman.

"How glad I am to see your lordship again!" exclaimed the little man, as I stepped into his door. "May I become as the dust of the street, if it doesn't seem a hundred years since I saw you last! But, does your lordship imagine I could fail to recognize the noble knight Zdenko Kochanovszki, who, in fulfillment of a vow, journeyed on foot, and garbed as a pilgrim, to Jerusalem and back? Have not I, Malchus the tailor, eyes to see? I'll wager my head against a button, that nobody but myself would recognize your lordship in those ragged garments. Could the beautiful Persida, from whom your lordship received the magnificent wreath at the tournament, see you now, she would say: 'Give this ragged beggar a penny, and drive him away.' She is a duchess now, the wife of the powerful Duke Visznovieczki. But I have not forgotten your lordship; I still have the clothes your lordship left in pledge with me—also the embroidered leather-belt with the bag containing the documents. I kept them all, safely concealed, for I knew your lordship, the brave and noble Zdenko Kochanovszki, would return from the holy land and redeem his pledge."

I saw at once that I should have to accept the personality thrust upon me by the loquacious little tailor, and call myself Zdenko Kochanovszki; and when I found how admirably the puissant knight's cast-off garments fitted me, I no longer hesitated to take possession of his name also.

And that is how I became Zdenko Kochanovszki. When I was completely garbed—and a stately mazar, I looked in the knight's habiliments!—I asked Malchus what was to pay.

"Why, surely your lordship remembers the sum I advanced on the clothes? Of course, I did not count in the loan the jeweled clasps your lordship desired to be sent to the beautiful Persida; so you owe me only a round hundred ducats—"

"A hundred ducats?" I repeated in consternation. "Why there isn't in all Poland a waywode who can boast of so costly a suit of clothes."

Malchus smiled slyly: "That is very true, my lord, and there is not in all Poland a magnate who can boast of more valuable documents than those in the bag attached to your lordship's leather-belt. When your lordship left them with me and charged me to care for them as for the apple of my eye, I knew they must be of great importance. So I have kept them safely concealed all these years. I don't know what the papers contain as I can read only what I write with my own hand. I don't understand Latin, or Greek; and I don't know how to read from left to right; consequently your lordship may believe me when I say I have not read the papers. Your lordship will find everything in the bag just as when it was placed in my hands for safe keeping."

I opened the bag, and, on examining the documents, found to my surprise and delight that they were just what I wanted. There was a patent of nobility, with a Turk's head in the crest—(concerning the Turk's head I might justly have appropriated it for my own escutcheon, only I had not come into possession of it on the battlefield!) There was also an academic certificate, from the Rector of Sarbonne, with the baccalaureate degree; also certificates of baptism and confirmation, signed by the bishop of Cracow; a testimonial of valor from the imperial commander-in-chief, Montecucculi; and a pardon from the patriarch of Jerusalem—such as are bestowed on pilgrims to the Holy Sepulchre—all of which were the property of Zdenko Kochanovszki—who I was!

Malchus continued to smile slyly while I was examining the documents, and when I had read the last one he said:

"Doesn't your lordship think these handsome clothes are worth one hundred ducats?"

I gave him a hearty slap on the back; then counted out a "round hundred ducats." The clothes were not worth one-tenth that sum, but I was quite satisfied with my purchase.

I was now fully equipped for my entrance to the ducal palace; as Zdenko Kochanovszki I might without hesitation seek admittance anywhere.

He to whom the name rightly belonged had disappeared eight years before, and had most likely lost his life in the Holy Land, or in the battle with the infidels in Hungary. Whoever still remembered the beardless youth, would not wonder at the great change eight years of hardship and danger had made in him; and would expect to find the man a different looking person from the boy. As for my looks—I doubt if my own mother would have recognized me.

The duke was an old man, of a girth so enormous that he was obliged to wear a broad surcingle as support to his rotund paunch. His hair and beard were gray on the right side, but black on the left, which gave him a very peculiar appearance.

When I presented myself before him, he seized both my hands, and exclaimed:

"What! Zdenko Kochanovszki back again? The devil! What a man you are grown! Do you remember what we did at parting?"

I was confused for a moment: how was I to remember what I had never known? However, I had to reply, so I stammered what I thought the most probable:

"We drank to each other, your grace."

"By heaven, you are right, lad! That is what we did! But, do you also remember our wager?"

I ventured another guess, and answered:

"Each wagered he could drink the other under the table."

"Ha, ha, ha! Right—right!" shouted his grace, embracing and kissing me. "That's what we wagered—and the devil fly away with me if I don't match you again this very moment! Ho, there, fetch the bratina."

The bratina is a huge golden beaker that holds two quarts. This was brought to me, filled with Hegyaljaner wine.

Now, I had fasted for many hours, and was both hungry and thirsty, so that it did not require much of an effort on my part to empty the bratina at a draught—to the supernaculum!

"The devil fetch me!" roared the jovial duke. "If I had not recognized you already, I should know you now!"

I had no difficulty drinking his grace under the table; and from that hour I became an important member of his household.

CHAPTER II.
PERSIDA.

Under that name, your honor, resumed Hugo, I lived the most memorable days of my life. I was treated by the duke as a good comrade and familiar friend. We hunted together for days in the ducal forests slaying the wild bulls and bears by the hundreds; and when we returned to the palace the merry-making began. There would be feasting and drinking; the most enchanting music by a band of Bohemian players; the court-fools would amuse us with all sorts of buffoonery; and when any of the jovial company succumbed to the beaker and tumbled under the table the attendants carried them to bed. Not infrequently it happened that his grace and myself would be the only two left at the table—we being able to stand more than the others.

At times, too, I would entertain the company by relating the most wonderful tales of my pilgrimage, which were listened to with close attention.

In all this time I had not seen a single woman about the palace.

The grand-duchess was absent on a pilgrimage to Berdiczov, in fulfillment of a vow. I learned from one of the guests that the duke's marriage had not been blessed with an heir, and this was why the duchess had undertaken the devout journey. As she knew she should be absent several weeks, she took with her all the women servants, as well as her ladies-in-waiting—from which I guessed the fair Persida to be a shrewd, as well as a beautiful woman.

I waited her grace's return with no little apprehension, for, with the exception of the grand duke himself, every one about the palace knew that Zdenko Kochanovszki had been a devoted admirer of the lady before her marriage. Indeed, it was said that her marriage to the rich old duke had sent the youthful Zdenko on his pilgrimage.

That all this was unknown to his grace was certain, else the reception accorded to me, whom he believed to be his former boon companion, would not have been so cordial.

There would be some sport when the lady returned home.

Would she, too, see in me her quondam admirer? What would happen to me if the eyes of a loving woman should prove more keen than those of her husband? What would be the result if she saw through my masquerade? If she should say: "Away with this rogue—he is a deceiver! I know what dwells in the eyes of the true Zdenko, for I have looked into them. These are not Zdenko's eyes."

And again: what would happen if she should believe me to be her one-time lover? and question me as her husband had done: "Do you remember the promise we gave to each other?" And, suppose I should be as lucky in guessing the reply as before!

The duke spoke boastfully of his dragoon's victory over the haidemaken before the walls of Berdiczov monastery. The robbers had been mowed down like grain; only the leader and a few of his men had escaped by the skin of their teeth; their field-gun had been captured and the gunner hanged on one of the tallest trees—your honors may guess that I took good care not to deny this statement!

I praised the duke's heroism, and listened attentively to his tales about the terrible haidemaken, as if I had never heard of them before.

At last, one fine day, the pilgrims returned from Berdiczov; and the joyous sound of women's voices was heard in the palace. Master and man hastened to welcome the fair ones. I alone had no one to greet.

I was very curious to see what manner of woman the beautiful Persida might be—she for whose sake the owner of my name had gone out into the wide world.

The duke hastened to assist her from the carriage on the arrival of the caravan. She was very graceful—tall, with a pale face, large, dark languishing eyes, full red lips, and coal black hair.

When her spouse pressed his moist moustache to her lips, she made a grimace. He was overjoyed at her return. The duke's guests and attendants welcomed the returned duchess, each in their own fashion; the former pressed their lips to her hand; the latter kissed the hem of her robe. I did not want my first meeting with her grace to take place in the presence of the entire household; but the duke called me from the hall, where I had withdrawn, and said:

"See here, my love, who is this? Look at him, and tell me if you recognize the lad?"

I was afraid to meet the glance which scrutinized my features—I felt that I should be compelled to blurt out:

"I am Baran, gunner of the haidemaken."

"You don't recognize him, do you?" again said the duke. "I knew you wouldn't. 'Tis our long absent comrade Zdenko Kochanovszki."

For one single instant I saw into that woman's soul. At mention of my name, a sudden light leapt into her eyes—a world of passion flamed for one brief instant.

Her husband had not seen it, only I. Then the beautiful eyes became cold again, and indifferent, and the queenly head was gravely bent in recognition of an old acquaintance, the slender fingers were extended for the formal kiss of greeting.

She did not vouchsafe another glance toward me, but turned toward the duke, laid her hand on his arm, and said with sudden friendliness:

"Comment vous portez-vous, mon petit drôle?"

Although her grace took no further notice of me, I saw my way clear for the future.

With the return of the duchess the household regulations underwent a complete change. The noisy tipplers received their congé; the nightly carousals came to an end. Quite a different mode of life had been prescribed by the prior of the monastery for the ducal pair, if they wished his blessing to have the desired effect. All fast days were to be strictly observed; they might eat only sparingly of the plainest food—only of those dishes which conduce to strength: snails, frogs, and those vegetables which grow under ground.

This sort of diet, as you may guess, was not suited to the palates of the duke's guests. One after another took his departure, until none remained but myself; and I had become indispensable to his grace, because of my ability to amuse him with adventurous tales.

Every evening the duchess would send for me to read aloud in a religious book, about saints, until the duke would become sleepy. Her grace continued to treat me with extreme reserve; she never lifted her eyes to mine when she spoke to me, but always kept them lowered, as if she were addressing her remarks to my boots.

She appeared to be extraordinarily pious; she would repeat a long prayer before and at the end of every meal. She never called me by name—always "Sir." Indeed, the only time she unbent from her frigid reserve, was, when she patted her husband's fat, bearded cheek, or pulled his moustache, to restore him to a good humor; but these occasions were rare.

Before the duke retired for the night, the duchess prepared with her own fair hands his slumber draught, the recipe for which she had received from the prior of Berdiczov monastery. It was composed of all sorts of costly spices—an enumeration of which I may repeat later, should I take up the trade of concocting various potations, the efficacy of which may not be doubted.

The chief ingredient of the duke's sleeping potion was hot, red wine; and he was wont to smack his lips and exclaim after he had emptied the glass:

"Ah!—my love, that has quite rejuvenated me." He would spring lightly as a youth from his arm-chair, take his wife's hand, and gallantly conduct her to their private chambers, leaving me to the solitary perusal of the pious volume—to learn what had happened to St. Genevieve, when Attila's Huns besieged Paris.

One evening we were engaged as usual with our instructive reading. The duke and his wife were seated in front of the fire-place; I, as always, occupied a chair at the table on which rested the ponderous "History of the Saints and Martyrs." I had been reading for an hour and more, how St. Genevieve had relieved Paris a second time from famine, when the duke suddenly interrupted to say he was so thirsty he must beg that his nightly potion be given to him at once. His wife prepared it for him; but, instead of rising to retire to his own rooms as usual, after he had emptied the glass, he settled himself back in his chair, clasped his hands over his paunch, and in a few minutes his powerful snoring again interrupted the reading.

The duchess looked at him for several moments with an indescribable expression on her lovely face—a mixture of loathing, rage, and contempt; then, she sprang to her feet, came swiftly toward the table where I was sitting, and gave it so vigorous a thrust with her foot that it toppled over and fell, together with the Saints and Martyrs, to the floor with a loud noise. His grace did not stir; his snores continued with unabated vigor.

Before I had recovered from my astonishment at her grace's behavior, she seated herself on my knee and flung her arms around my neck:

"So you have come back to me, Zdenko? Tell me, do you still love me?" she asked in a passionate whisper, at the same time making it impossible for me to reply—

"Stop!" here interrupted the chair: "I don't quite understand how that could be?"

"I do," promptly, and succinctly interposed the prince. "Continue, prisoner, what happened next?"

I hardly know how to tell it, your highness. It was like a dream of paradise! I knew that every kiss I received and returned was deceit, robbery, sacrilege; I knew I was cheating the house which sheltered me; the master of the house who fed me; the unknown man whose name I bore—the woman—God—the devil—all—all. And yet, were you to ask me what I should do were I to be placed in the same situation again, I should reply: "Just what I did then—and if it cost me my life!"

"Hardened reprobate!" exclaimed the chair in a tone of reprimand. Then he dictated to the notary: "Adulterium cum stellionatum—"

"But," hastily interposed the prince, "he did not begin it. In this case, as in that of Father Adam: the woman was to blame. The prisoner will continue."

I know it was a great crime—I know it very well, and it oppresses my soul to this day, although I have received absolution for it. In that moment of oblivion to all things earthly, the lovely Persida whispered in my ear:

"Zdenko, if you could journey to the Holy Land for love of me you could also endure a season of purgatory for my sake, could you not?"

Without stopping to consider, I answered:

"Certainly I could!"

"Very well, then, do not confess this sin which is half mine. Do not confide it to priest, or saint, for no matter to whom you might confess, misfortune would come to me as well as to you."

I promised not to confess the sin; but I went about with it weighting my soul, much as a wounded stag roams the forest with a dart in his vitals.

The old duke at last became so devout that he compelled every member of his household to repair to the confessional in his private chapel, every fast day. There was nothing to be seen of the priest who received the penitents, but his hand, in which he held a long ivory wand with which he would touch the penitent as a sign that absolution had been granted.

The duke confessed first; after him the duchess; then I, the house-friend, and major-domo of the ducal household. When my turn came, I took my place before the lattice and said to the confessor: "Father, will you give me your word of honor that you will never tell what I confess to you?"

"Don't ask such silly questions, my son," he replied. "Don't you know that the secrets of the confessional are inviolably sacred?"

"But, suppose you should tell them sometime?" I persisted.

"Then I should be burned at the stake."

"Has it never happened that a priest betrayed the secrets confided to him in the confessional?" I asked again.

"Such a case is not on record, my son. Not even the confession of a murderer may be revealed, though the priest knows that an innocent man will be hanged for the crime. He dare not speak to prevent the law from committing another murder. On the other hand, many a priest has suffered martyrdom rather than betray the secrets confided to him. An illustrious example is Saint Nepomuck, of whom I dare say you have heard?"

"Yes, I have read about John Nepomucene; but are you a saint of that order?"

"The vows I have taken, my son, are the same he took."

"That is not enough, father; you must swear to me that you will never reveal what I tell you."

And his reverence had to yield to my importunate request before I would make my confession to him. After he had solemnly sworn never to reveal what I should tell him, I made a clean breast of everything—and a rare list it was I can tell you!

At the last transgression, however, I made a pause. I remembered what Persida had said to me. And yet, the sin I shared with her was the very one that most oppressed my soul.

The father noticed my hesitation, and said:

"My son, you are keeping back something. You have not told me everything. It is not likely that a stately young gentleman like yourself lives only on caraway-soup! There are many handsome women in this city; every one of them confesses her foibles—you, surely, are not the only saint about here! Remember, if you withhold but a single transgression, your tortures in purgatory will be the same as for nine-hundred and ninety-nine."

The reverend father continued to threaten me with purgatorial fires, until at last I confided in him the secret which was only half mine. I had no sooner done so than I regretted it; I would have given anything could I have recalled my words—nay, I would willingly have journeyed straightway to purgatory, as I had told Persida I would, rather than betray the secret we shared together. But the secrets of a sinful love have wings—they will escape somehow.

When I bent forward to receive the reverend father's benediction, he gave me such a thump on the head with his wand that the spot remained sore to the touch for several days.

"He absolves one with a will, and no mistake!" I said to myself as I rose to go my way. It occurred to me for an instant, that it would be exceedingly comical if, instead of a priest, it had been the duke who received my confession. I turned to look toward his grace's arm-chair, and was relieved to see that his burly form occupied it, and that he was wrapped in devout slumber.

THE IRON NECKLACE.

Freed from the burden of my transgressions, I proceeded to do what is usually done by the prodigal sons who have been relieved of their old debts—I set about at once to make new ones.

I looked forward with impatience for evening to arrive, for the hour of instructive reading in the book of Saints and Martyrs.

On this particular evening the duke was even more friendly toward me than usual; he jested with me, and frequently compelled me to exchange glasses with him as a sign of his cordial friendship.

When the hour arrived for the duchess to prepare the "rejuvenating sleeping potion," his grace became actually boisterous; his fat face grew crimson, his rotund paunch shook like jelly, with his incessant laughter.

"See here, comrade," he exclaimed, taking from his wife's hand the goblet in which the hot, spiced wine was steaming, "this is a drink of paradise! When I have emptied it into my stomach, I fly direct to paradise—not the one described by our holy men, where all the men are old, and all the women pious; where there is neither eating nor drinking and where there are no amusements save harp-playing and psalm singing—no, I fly straightway to the improved paradise of the Mohammedans, where there is wine to drink and women to admire. There an enchanting Greek Hetäre offers you the wine of Cyprus; the Roman bacchante offers Falernian wine; the Spanish donna serves Maderia; the Lesbian siren gives you nectar; the Persian bayadere brings Shiraz; the Wallachian fairy, Tokay; and the negress Abelera dips up sparkling Bordeaux in the hollow of her dusky palm and holds it to your lips—each more beautiful than the other, until at last you cannot decide which of the wines is the most delicious. That is I cannot, for you have not yet made the journey. But you shall; for are not we good comrades—you and I? Is it not meet that I should let my heart's brother enjoy paradisal delights with me? To be sure it is! Very good! You shall go in my stead this very evening to Mohammed's paradise—but only this once, mind you! Here, take the glass, empty it to the dregs!" I was exceedingly embarrassed; I looked questioningly toward the duchess, who was seated on the arm of her husband's chair. He could not see her nod her head as if to say, "Do as you are bid."

I took the goblet and emptied it to the dregs. Almost immediately I was overcome by a languor that seemed to transform my material body to vapor. I rose from the earth to the clouds which assumed the most fantastic shapes; on and on the breeze wafted me; over enchanting regions, amid talking trees and singing fruits; across a sea of radiant light swept by waves of harmony—amid music, and color, and perfumes, the quintessence of sweetness, amid gorgeous flames which became forms of transcendent loveliness: Delilah; Bathsheba; Salome; Laïs; Aspasia; Cleopatra; Semiramis; Circe; and the dusky Atalanta. The seductive forms gathered around me; they pressed toward me, smiling alluringly. They thrust on to every one of my fingers rings that glittered with diamonds, rubies, sapphires, until my hands became so heavy I could not lift them. Their embraces strangled me; their kisses burned on my face and neck like fire; the dusky Atalanta's coral lips drew the blood from my veins—

"Are you never going to waken from your satanic dream?" impatiently interrupted the chair.

"Let him dream—it is rather pleasant," interposed the prince; but Hugo said:

"I am awake. The place in which I found myself, when I opened my eyes, was not Mohammed's paradise, but an underground dungeon, the walls of which were dripping with moisture. The flickering light of a small lamp faintly illumined the narrow cell; and the rings which weighted my hands were heavy iron chains that creaked and clinked every movement I made. The kisses which burned on my face and neck were not from the lips of Delilah, Circe, and the rest; but from those horrible hundred-legged creatures, scolopendra, which covered my body; and the dusky Atalanta, who drew the blood from my neck, was nothing less than a hideous vampyre. The embraces which strangled me were not from the white arms of enchantresses, but from an iron band two inches thick and three fingers wide, fastened about my neck, and secured to a ring in the wall by a chain, that was only long enough to allow me to reach and convey to my mouth the mouldy bread and jug of water placed by my side—"

"Served you right, you godless miscreant!" interpolated the chair in a severe tone. "You got your just deserts at last!"

At first—continued the prisoner—I consoled myself with the foolish thought that I was still under the influence of the sleeping potion. I remembered that those persons who eat the flesh of sharks are said to have such dreams: delightful visions at first, followed by the tortures of martyrdom.

But the iron neck-band was too painful a reality for me to remain long in doubt as to whether I was awake, or dreaming. The cold, hard, heavy ring betrothed me to death!

How long a time I passed in thinking over what had happened I can't say; there was no night, no day, in that dungeon; nor was I told by sleep and hunger when it was midnight or noon.

The lamp in my cell was a perpetual one, for the oil did not grow less; it was there, doubtless, to reveal to me all the horrors of my surroundings. Reptiles, all manner of creeping and crawling creatures moved over the stone floor and walls; vampyres hung in rows from the ceiling, watching me with their garnet eyes, ready to flash down on me the moment I lost consciousness in sleep.

At last a sound roused me from the stupor into which I had fallen; a key turned in the lock, the iron door opened, and a tall man, whose face was hidden by a capuchin, entered, with a jug of water and a loaf of bread.

"Well, my lad," he exclaimed, on seeing that I had not touched the bread or the water by my side. "Do you propose to starve yourself?"

His voice sounded strangely familiar; I did not have to trouble my brain guessing where I had heard it before; he pushed back his capuchin, and I recognized the haidemaken priest who had performed the ceremony of confirmation over me in the cavern.

"You are the haidemaken pater?" I whispered hoarsely, not trusting myself to speak aloud.

"Then you recognize me, do you?" he returned, laughing. "I had an idea you would deny all knowledge of our former comradeship."

"Are you the gaoler here?" I asked.

"The gaoler?" he repeated, laughing again. "Not by a good deal! I am the court-confessor!" He sat down on the stone seat to which I was chained, and continued: "I dare say you are curious to learn how I come to be here? Well, when the duke's dragoons attacked the haidemaken at Berdiczov, I hastily donned my chasuble and capuchin, trusting to the vestments to save my life, which they did; but I was taken prisoner and brought to the duke. I could not deny that I was a haidemak, but his grace evidently had use for a person like myself, for he said to me: "You deserve to be hanged, reverend father, but I will spare your life on condition that you accept a proposition I shall offer you: I want you to act the part of court-confessor for a season, to receive the confessions of those persons I shall send to you. I suspect my wife of infidelity, but cannot find out who is the partner of her guilt. They both confess to the court-chaplain I have no doubt, but he is an honest old saint who would let himself be torn to pieces rather than betray the secrets confided to him in the confessional. Now, you are of a different pattern; it will not matter to you if the fires of purgatory are heated a few degrees hotter for your purification. If you don't accept my conditions you will have the opportunity at once of testing the temperature of purgatory; if you accept you shall have a respite. What do you say? Will you become my court-confessor?"