“My dear abbe, in bygone years did you never catch sight of the face of my uncle, John de Mauprat?”

“Never, as far as I know,” replied the abbe, quite amazed.  “But what are you driving at?”

“Only this, my friend; you have made a pretty find here; this good and venerable Trappist, in whom you see so much grace and candour, and contrition, and intelligence, is none other than John de Mauprat, the Hamstringer.”

“You must be mad!” cried the abbe, starting back.  “John de Mauprat died a long time ago.”

“John Mauprat is not dead, nor perhaps Antony Mauprat either; and my surprise is less than yours only because I have already met one of these two ghosts.  That he has become a monk, and is repenting for his sins, is very possible; but alas! it is by no means impossible that he has disguised himself in order to carry out some evil design, and I advise you to be on your guard.”

The abbe was so frightened that he no longer wanted to keep his appointment.  I suggested that it would be well to learn what the old sinner was aiming at.  But, as I knew the abbe’s weak character, and feared that my Uncle John would manage to win his heart by his lying confessions and wheedle him into some false step, I made up my mind to hide in a thicket whence I could see and hear everything.

But things did not happen as I had expected.  The Trappist, instead of playing the politician, immediately made known his real name to the abbe.  He declared that he was full of contrition, and that, as his conscience would not allow him to make the monk’s habit a refuge from punishment (he had really been a Trappist for several years), he was about to put himself into the hands of justice, that he might atone in a striking way for the crimes with which he was polluted.  This man, endowed as he was with conspicuous abilities, had acquired a mystic eloquence in the cloister.  He spoke with so much grace and persuasiveness that I was fascinated no less than the abbe.  It was in vain that the latter attempted to combat a resolution which appeared to him insane; John Mauprat showed the most unflinching devotion to his religious ideas.  He declared that, having committed the crimes of the old barbarous paganism, he could not ransom his soul save by a public expiation worthy of the early Christians.

“It is possible,” he said, “to be a coward with God as well as with man, and in the silence of my vigils I hear a terrible voice answering to my tears:  ’Miserable craven, it is the fear of man that has thrown you upon the bosom of God, and if you had not feared temporal death, you would never have thought of life eternal!’

“Then I realize that what I most dread is not God’s wrath, but the rope and the hangman that await me among my fellows.  Well, it is time to end this sense of secret shame; not until the day when men crush me beneath their abuse and punishment shall I fell absolved and restored in the sight of Heaven; then only shall I account myself worthy to say to Jesus my Saviour:  ’Give ear to me, innocent victim, Thou who heardest the penitent thief; give ear to a sullied but contrite victim, who has shared in the glory of Thy martyrdom and been ransomed by Thy blood!’”