. The monk and the hangman's daughter. er, against whom torebel, even in thought, is sin. Is not obediencethe foremost commandment of our great Saint forall his disciiDles ? Ah, how I long for the priestlyordination and the holy oil! Then I shall havepeace and will be able to serve Heaven better andwith greater acceptance. I am troubled about Benedicta. If not confinedto my cell I should go toward the Galgenberg :perhaps I should meet her. I grieve for her as ifshe were my sister. 75 ^e l^onlt anO tjeBelonsrina: to the Lord, I have no rifflit to love ^ anything but Him who died upon the cross
. The monk and the hangman's daughter. er, against whom torebel, even in thought, is sin. Is not obediencethe foremost commandment of our great Saint forall his disciiDles ? Ah, how I long for the priestlyordination and the holy oil! Then I shall havepeace and will be able to serve Heaven better andwith greater acceptance. I am troubled about Benedicta. If not confinedto my cell I should go toward the Galgenberg :perhaps I should meet her. I grieve for her as ifshe were my sister. 75 ^e l^onlt anO tjeBelonsrina: to the Lord, I have no rifflit to love ^ anything but Him who died upon the cross for our sins — all other love is evil. 0 blessed Saints in Heaven ! what if it bo that this feeling which I have accepted as a sign and token that I am charged with the salvation of Benedictas soul is but an earthly love ! Pray for me, 0 dear Fran- ciscus, that I may have the light, lest I stray into that road which leads down to Hell. Light and strength, beloved Saint, that I may know the right path, and walk therein forever I STAND at the window ofmy cell. The snn sinks andthe shadows creep higheron the sides of the mount-ains beyond the abyss itself is filledwith a mist whose billowysurface looks like a great lake. I think howBenedicta climbed out of these awful depths tofling me the edelweiss; I listen for the sound ofthe stones displaced by her daring little feet andplunging into the chasm below. But night afternight has passed. I hear the wind among thepines ; I hear the water roaring in the deeps ; Ihear the distant song of the nightingale ; but hervoice I do not hear. Every evening the mist rises from the abyss. Itforms billows ; then rings ; then flakes, and theserise and grow and darken until they are greatclouds. They cover the hill and the valley, thetall pines and the snow-pointed mountains. They 77 antt tl)e 39au2f)tPi^ extinguish the last remaining touches of sunlighton the higher peaks, and it is night. Alas, in mysoul also there is night -—
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Keywords: ., bookauthorbierceam, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookyear1892
