the arrests which had taken place, and it seemed to him as if those
he met greeted him in a less friendly manner than usual, or purposely
looked aside. Half forgotten innuendoes made by the clergy of the
Hirsch and occasional references to his papistry now began to weigh him
down, for the first time his conscience pricked him and was at
variance. Whatever dogmas of his Order he might repeat to himself,
since he saw before him the bleeding victims of his secret report, did
not console his better self with mechanical references to a sworn duty.
"I ought never to have allowed myself to undertake such a _role_" he
murmured. "I shall serve the Order, but openly. I am a man, what
necessity have I for concealment?" and carried out of himself by his
rapid walk and by the flood of thought within him, he tore from his
neck the plate-like ruff and hid it away, as if the symbol of a
clergyman of the reformed Church choked him like an iron neck band. He
struggled in his close cell through a restless night, in which the
seven mortal sins contested for the possession of his soul. Distracted
with wild passion he rose with fevered eyelids the next morning from
his couch. The school was closed and no occupation was at hand to free
him from the torture of his thoughts. The Abbess and presumably all the
nuns knew what was going on within him since those profane _exercitia_.
What could he preach to them? Mechanically did he perform his services.
Together with the loss of the respect of his congregation did his own
self-respect seem to abandon him. The work sickened him. Lazily did he
wander about the woods surrounding the Stift, or he climbed up to the
Benedictine Abbey of Schoenau, to return after a short rest alone and
sad through the old oaks to his room in the Stift. His sermons in the
Chapel of the castle became more and more gloomy, replete with mournful
lamentations over the human heart and the sins of the world. His images
were mainly derived from the darkest situations of life. Often did the
women and maidens gaze up at the melancholy preacher, who wished to
drive away sunshine from God's beauteous world. He saw Lydia no more
among them. The Ephorus of the Sapientia said contentedly to the Church
Counsellor and Town-preacher sitting near him: "The Magister increases
daily in knowledge." In this however the church elders were at fault.
On the contrary, their _protege_ had never been so near his moral ruin
as at the moment that he spa