r and uncharitableness."

He walked rapidly across the bridge into Sachsenhausen, past his room at
the street corner, and on to the monastery of the Benedictines, whose
little chapel stood open night and day for the prayers of those in
trouble or in sadness, habited only by one of the elder brothers, who
gave, if it were needed, advice, encouragement, or spiritual comfort.
Removing his hat, the Prince entered into the silence on tiptoe, and
kneeling before the altar, prayed devoutly for direction, asking the
Almighty to turn the thoughts of His servant, Mayence, into channels
that flowed towards peace and the relief of this unhappy city.

As he rose to his feet a weight lifted from his shoulders, and the
buoyancy of youth drove away the depression that temporarily overcame
him on hearing of the army threatening Frankfort. His plans were honest,
his methods conciliatory, and the path now seemed clear before him. The
monk in charge, who had been kneeling in a dark corner near the door,
now came forward to intercept him.

"Will your Highness deny me in the chapel as you did upon the bridge?"

Roland stopped. In the gloom he had not recognized the ghostly Father.

"No, Father Ambrose, and I do now what I should have done then. I pray
your blessing on the enterprise before me."

"My son, it is willingly given, the more willingly that I may atone in
part my forgetting of the Holy Words: 'Judge not, that ye be not
judged.' I grievously misjudged you, as I learn from both the Archbishop
and my kinswoman. I ask your forgiveness."

"I shall forgive you, Father Ambrose, if you make full, not partial
atonement. The consequences of your mistake have proved drastic and
far-reaching. The least of these consequences is that it has cost me the
Emperorship."

"Oh," moaned the good man, "_mea culpa, mea culpa!_ No penance put upon
me can compensate for that disaster."

"You blame yourself overmuch, good Father. The penance I have to impose
will leave me deeply in your debt. Now, to come from the least to the
greatest of these results, so far as I am concerned, my marriage with
your kinswoman, whom I love devotedly, is in jeopardy. Through her
conviction that I was a thief, she braved the Archbishop of Mayence, who
imprisoned her, and now his Lordship has determined that the Grand Duke
Karl of Hesse shall be Emperor. Thus we arrive at the most important
outcome of your error. Between the overwhelming forces of Mayence and
the ins