il to produce an effect, for though Adam was a
brave man, the monk threatened him with things, against which he felt
as powerless as when confronted with the might of the tempest and the
lightning flashing from the clouds. His features now expressed deep
mental anguish, and stretching out his hands repellently towards his
guest, he cried anxiously "No, no! Nothing more can happen to me. No
excommunication, no punishment, can make my present suffering harder to
bear, but if you harm the doctor, I shall curse the hour I invited you
to cross my threshold."

The monk looked at the other in surprise and answered in a more gentle
tone: "You have always walked in your own way, Adam; but whither are you
going now? Has the Jew bewitched you, or what binds you to him, that you
look, on his account, as if a thunderbolt had struck you? No one shall
have cause to curse the hour he invited Benedict to be his guest. See
your way clearly once more, and when you have come to your senses--why,
we monks have two eyes, that we may be able to close one when occasion
requires. Have you any special cause for gratitude to Costa?"

"Many, Father, many!" cried the smith, his voice still trembling with
only too well founded anxiety for his friend. "Listen, and when you know
what he has done for me, and are disposed to judge leniently, do not
carry what reaches your ears here before the chapter no, Father--I
beseech you--do not. For if it should be I, by whom the doctor came
to ruin, I--I...." The man's voice failed, and his chest heaved so
violently with his gasping breath, that his stout leathern apron rose
and fell.

"Be calm, Adam, be calm," said the monk, soothingly answering his
companion's broken words. "All shall be well, all shall be well. Sit
down, man, and trust me. What is the terrible debt of gratitude you owe
the doctor?"

Spite of the other's invitation, the smith remained standing and with
downcast eyes, began:

"I am not good at talking. You know how I was thrown into a dungeon on
Valentine's account, but no one can understand my feelings during that
time. Ulrich was left alone here among this miserable rabble with nobody
to care for him, for our old maid-servant was seventy. I had buried my
money in a safe place and there was nothing in the house except a loaf
of bread and a few small coins, barely enough to last three days. The
child was always before my eyes; I saw him ragged, begging, starving.
But my anxiety tortured me