sick man and I
am the physician. And the physician knows best what will do the sick
man good. You should also prepare yourself for taking the Sacrament."

As the poor sinner said no more, the priest spoke a few kind words and
left him. An hour later the gaoler brought him a parcel of books.
"The holy brother sends them so that you can amuse yourself a little."

Amusement! It was a cruel joke. Konrad gave a shrill laugh. It was
the laugh of a despairing man who cannot shut out the vision of his
last journey, which became more hideous every moment. What did the
Father send? Simple prayer-books and religious manuals. Book-markers
were placed to show the passages that applied especially to the
penitent and the dying man, and also prayers for poor souls in
purgatory. The soul physician, all unacquainted with souls, sent the
inconsolable man new anguish of death instead of life. Konrad searched
for the bread he needed, turned over the leaves of the books, began to
read here and there, but always put them down sadly. The more eagerly
did he exercise his memory in order to recall the pictures of his
childhood. His mother, who had been dead many years, stood before him
in order to help her unhappy child. Her figure, her words, her songs,
her sacred stories from the Saviour's life on earth--brought peace to
his soul. It suddenly came upon him; "God has not forgotten me." Just
as before he had raged in despair, so now beautiful shadows out of the
past appeared before him, and tears of redemption flowed from his eyes.

He did not have an hour's sleep the night of his condemnation. He
prayed, he dreamed, and then the horrid terror, which made him shiver
in all his limbs, came again. He kept looking towards the window to
see if daylight was beginning. Early in the morning, just at the first
dawn--so he had often heard--the warders come. The window showed only
darkness. But look, in the little three-cornered bit of sky, there is
a star. He had not seen it on other nights. It sailed up to the crack
in the roof and shone down through the window in kindly fashion. His
eye was riveted on the spark of light until it vanished behind the
walls. When at length day dawned, and the key rattled in the door,
Konrad's hands and feet began to tremble. It was the gaoler, who
brought him a bundle of coarse cotton clothing.

When Konrad asked in a dull voice if it was his gallows dress, the old
man answered roughly: "What