So he raged on, wringing his hands, groaning under the torture.  Suddenly his face became deathly white and his features stiffened as if his heart had ceased beating.

“Poor fellow,” said the priest, putting his arm round his neck and drawing his head down on his breast.  “You mustn’t talk like that.  Think, if we’ve been sinners all our lives, oughtn’t we to spend a few days in repenting?  Tell me, brother, don’t you desire the consolations of religion?”

“Indeed I do,” stammered the poor sinner.  “And so I asked——­”

“You see, I am ready.”

“And I also want the Gospels, if I may be allowed the book.”

The monk looked at him, then demanded quietly: 

“You want the New Testament?”

“I should like to read in it.  My mother had one and used to read it aloud and explain it.  It would give me a home-like feeling if I could read in it now.”

The Father replied:  “I’ll tell you something, my dear friend.  The Gospel is a very good book, not in vain is it called the glad tidings.”

“My God! yes; what do I need more sorely now than glad tidings?” agreed Konrad.

“Of course.  But the book’s not an easy one.  Out of ten readers there’s hardly one who understands it.  And even he doesn’t really understand it.  It’s too profound, I might say, too divine a book; as they say, seven times sealed.  Therefore it must be explained by experts.  I will willingly go through certain parts of it with you occasionally, but I shall give you something else for your edification, from which you will derive comfort and peace.”

Konrad covered his face with his hands, and said, almost inaudibly:  “The Gospel is what I should have liked best.”

And then the monk said gravely:  “My friend, you are the 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