, the object being to give
peace to them that would receive the sacrament at Easter, and also to
know if they had anything to say against the gaoler. "So, gentlemen,"
said Lawrence, "if you have any complaints to make of me make them. Dress
yourselves fully, as is customary." I told Lawrence to get me a confessor
for the day.

I put myself into full dress, and the Jew followed my example, taking
leave of me in advance, so sure was he that the secretary would set him
free on hearing what he had to say. "My presentiment," said he, "is of
the same kind as I have had before, and I have never been deceived."

"I congratulate you, but don't reckon without your host." He did not
understand what I meant.

In course of time the secretary came, and as soon as the cell-door was
opened the Jew ran out and threw himself at his feet on both knees, I
heard for five minutes nothing but his tears and complaints, for the
secretary said not one word. He came back, and Lawrence told me to go
out. With a beard of eight months' growth, and a dress made for
love-making in August, I must have presented a somewhat curious
appearance. Much to my disgust I shivered with cold, and was afraid that
the secretary would think I was trembling with fear. As I was obliged to
bend low to come out of my hole, my bow was ready made, and drawing
myself up, I looked at him calmly without affecting any unseasonable
hardihood, and waited for him to speak. The secretary also kept silence,
so that we stood facing each other like a pair of statues. At the end of
two minutes, the secretary, seeing that I said nothing, gave me a slight
bow, and went away. I re-entered my cell, and taking off my clothes in
haste, got into bed to get warm again. The Jew was astonished at my not
having spoken to the secretary, although my silence had cried more loudly
than his cowardly complaints. A prisoner of my kind has no business to
open his mouth before his judge, except to answer questions. On Maundy
Thursday a Jesuit came to confess me, and on Holy Saturday a priest of
St. Mark's came to administer to me the Holy Communion. My confession
appearing rather too laconic to the sweet son of Ignatius he thought good
to remonstrate with me before giving me his absolution.

"Do you pray to God?" he said.

"From the morning unto the evening, and from the evening unto the
morning, for, placed as I am, all that I feel--my anxiety, my grief, all
the wanderings of my mind--can be but a