e given, he stood his ground, and in trembling voice
asked what he could do to forward the contentment of his deceased
relative.
The statue replied, still face downward on the stone floor, that never
could the late wicked Count rest in peace unless the heir to his titles
and lands should take upon himself the sins Henry had committed during
his life, while a younger member of the family should become a monk of
the Benedictine Order, and daily intercede for the welfare of his soul.
"With extreme reluctance," continued the devout nobleman, "I gave my
assent to this unwelcome proposal, providing only that it should receive
the sanction of the Abbot and brethren of the Monastery of Sayn, hoping
by a life of continuous rectitude to annul, in some measure at least,
the evil works of Henry III.; and that holy sanction I now request,
trusting if given it may remove any doubts regarding the righteousness
of my promise."
Here the Count bowed low to the enthroned Abbot and, with less
reverence, to the assembled brethren. The Abbot rose to his feet, and in
a few well-chosen words complimented the nobleman on the sacrifice he
made, predicting that it would redound greatly to his spiritual welfare.
Speaking for himself, he had no hesitation in giving the required
sanction, but as the Count made it a proviso that the brethren should
concur, he now requested their acquiescence.
This was accorded in silent unanimity, whereupon Count von Sayn, deeply
sighing as one accepting a burden almost too heavy to bear, spoke with a
tremor of grief in his voice.
"It is not for me," he said, "to question your wisdom, nor shrink from
my allotted task. After all, I am but human, and up to this decisive
moment had hoped, alas! in vain, that some one more worthy than I might
be chosen in my place. The most grievous part of the undertaking, so far
as I am concerned, was outlined in the last words spoken by the wooden
statue. The evil deeds my ancestor has committed will in time be
obliterated by the prayers of the younger member of my family who
becomes a monk, but the accumulated gold carries with it a continual
curse, which can be wiped off each coin only by that coin benefiting the
merchants who have been robbed. The contamination of this metal,
therefore, I must bear, for it adds to the agony of my ancestor that,
little realizing what he was doing, he bequeathed this poisonous dross
to the Abbey he founded. I am required to lend it in Frank
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