I imagined his home, had been a mercy to a doom like this.

"He fears," I murmured, and I wept as I said it, "to look on one who
would watch over, and soothe, and bear with him, with more than a
woman's love! By what awful fate has this calamity fallen on one so
holy and so pure? or by what preordered destiny did I come to these
solitudes, to find at the same time a new charm for the earth and a
spell to change it again into a desert and a place of woe?"

All night I kept vigil by the cave, and listened if I could catch moan
or sound; but everything was silent: the thick walls of the rock kept
even the voice of despair from my ear. The day dawned, and I retired
among the trees, lest the Hermit might come out unawares and see me. At
sunrise I saw him appear for a few moments and again retire, and I then
hastened home, exhausted and wearied by the internal conflicts of the
night, to gather coolness and composure for the ensuing interview, which
I contemplated at once with eagerness and dread.

At the appointed hour I repaired to the cavern: the door was partially
closed; I opened it, hearing no answer to my knock, and walked gently
along the passage; but I now heard shrieks and groans and wild laughter
as I neared the rude chamber. I paused for a moment, and then in terror
and dismay entered the apartment. It was empty, but I saw near the clock
a small door, from within which the sounds that alarmed me proceeded. I
had no scruple in opening it, and found myself in the Hermit's sleeping
chamber,--a small dark room, where, upon a straw pallet, lay the
wretched occupant in a state of frantic delirium. I stood mute and
horror-struck, while his exclamations of frenzy burst upon my ear.

"There--there!" he cried, "I have struck thee to the heart, and now I
will kneel, and kiss those white lips, and bathe my hands in that blood!
Ha!--do I hate thee?--hate--ay--hate,--abhor, detest! Have
you the beads there?--let me tell them. Yes, I will go to the
confessional--confess?--No, no--all the priests in the world could
not lift up a soul so heavy with guilt. Help--help--help! I am
falling--falling--there is the pit, and the fire, and the devils! Do you
hear them laugh?--I can laugh too!--ha! ha! ha! Hush, I have written it
all out, in a fair hand; he shall read it; and then, O God! what curses
he will heap upon my head! Blessed Saint Francis, hear me! Lazarus,
Lazarus, speak for me!"

Thus did the Hermit rave, while my flesh cre