At this point of the monk’s grewsome discourse, Orion turned away with a shudder.  The curse with which the patriarch had threatened him recurred to his mind; he could have fancied that the hot, stuffy, incense-laden air of the church was full of flapping daws and hideous bats.  Deadly horror crept over him; but then, suddenly, the rebound came of youthful vigor, longing for freedom and joy in living; a voice within cried out:  “Away with coercion and chains!  Winged spirit, use your pinions!  Down with the god of terrors!  He is not that Heavenly Father whose love embraces mankind.  Forward, leap up and be free!  Trusting in your own strength, guided by your own will, go boldly forth into the open sunshine of life!  Be free, be free!—­Still, be not like a slave who is no sooner cut adrift and left to himself than he falls a slave again to his own senses.  No; but striving unceasingly and of your own free will, in the sweat of your brow, to reach the high goal, to work out to its fulfilment and fruition everything that is best in your soul and mind.  Yes—­life is a ministry. . . .  I, like the disciples of the Stoa, will strive after all that is known as virtue, with no other end in view than to practise it for its own sake, because it is fair and gives unmixed joys.  I will rely on myself to seek the truth—­and do what I feel to be right and good; this, henceforth, shall be the lofty aim of my existence.  To the two chief desires of my heart—­:  atonement to my father and union with Paula, I here add a third:  the attainment of the loftiest goal that I may reach, by valiant striving to get as near to it as my strength will allow.  The road thither is by Work; the guiding star I must keep before me that I may not go astray is my Love!”

His cheeks were burning, and with a deep breath he looked about him as though to find an adversary with whom he might measure his strength.  The horrible sermon was ended and the words of the chanting crowd fell on his ear.  “Lord, reward me not according to mine iniquities!” The load of his own sin fell on his heart again, and his dying father’s curse; his proud head drooped on his breast, and he said to himself that his burthen was too heavy for him to venture on the bold flight for which he had but now spread his wings.  The ban was not yet lifted; he was not yet redeemed from its crushing weight.  But the mere word “redeemed” brought to his mind the image of Him who took on Himself the sins of the world; and the more deeply he contemplated the nature of the Saviour whom he had loved from his childhood, the more surely he felt that it would be doing no violence to the freedom of his own will, but rather be the fulfilment of a long-felt desire, if he were to tell Jesus simply all that oppressed him; that his love for Him, his faith in Him, had a saving power even for his soul.  He lifted up his eyes and heart to Him, and to Him, as to a trusted friend, confided all that troubled and hindered him and besought His aid.