ed the paths,
torturing himself with horrid doubts.

His eyes were fixed on the ground, his mind was far away from the
peaceful garden, and without being aware of what he was doing, he left
the cloister-gardens and wandered out into the neighbouring forest.
The birds in the trees greeted him cordially, the flowers opened their
eyes at his approach; but the wretched man heard and saw nothing but
the words: "A thousand years are but as a day in Thy sight."

His wandering steps grew feeble, his feverish brain weary from want of
sleep. Then the monk sank down on a stone, and laid his troubled head
against a tree.

A sweet, peaceful dream stole over his spirit. He found himself in
spheres glowing with light; the waters of Eternity were rushing round
the throne of the Most High; creation appeared and praised His works,
and Heaven extolled their glory; from the worm in the dust, which no
earthly being has been able to create, to the eagle soaring above the
heights of the earth: from the grain of sand on the sea-shore, to the
gigantic crater, which, at the Lord's command, vomits fire out of its
throat which has been closed for thousands of years: they all spoke
with one voice which is not heard by the haughty, being only manifest
and comprehensible to the humble. These were the words of Him who
created them, be it in six days or in six thousand years, "A thousand
years are but as a day in Thy sight."

With a slight shudder the monk opened his eyes.

"I believe Lord! help Thou my unbelief," murmured he, taking heart.

The bell sounded in the distance. They were ringing for vespers;
sunset was already gleaming through the forest.

The monk hastily turned towards the cloister. The chapel was lighted
up, and through the half-opened door he could see the brothers in
their stalls. He hurried noiselessly to his place, but to his
astonishment he found that another monk was there; he touched him
lightly on the shoulder, and strange to tell, the man he saw was
unknown to him. The brothers, now one, now another, raised their heads
and looked in silent questioning at the new comer.

A peculiar feeling seized the poor monk, who saw only strange faces
round him. Growing pale, he waited till the singing was over. Confused
questions seemed to pass along the rows.

The Prior, a dignified old man with snow-white hair, approached.

"What is your name, strange brother?" asked he in a gentle, kind tone.
The monk was filled with dismay.