his whole being rose in revolt against a decision
which deprived him of all that he had been taught to consider blessed.

Then a strange revulsion of feeling came. There were good men in the
world, he remembered, as well as bad: there were beautiful women; there
was art, and music, and much that makes life seem worth living. Why,
after all, if the monks rejected him, should he not go to the world and
take his pleasure there like other men? And there came a vision of
Elizabeth, with her pale face turned to him in pity, and her hand
beckoning him to follow her. Then, after a little interval, he came to
himself, and knew that his mind had wandered; and so, in order to steady
his thoughts, he began to speak aloud, and a novice, who had been sent
to say a certain number of prayers at that hour in church by way of
penance, started from a fitful slumber on his knees, and heard the words
that Dino said. They sounded strange to the young novice: he repeated
them next day with a sense that he might be uttering blasphemy, and was
very much astonished when the Prior drew his hand across his eyes as if
to wipe away a tear, and did not seem horrified in the very least. And
this was what Dino said:--

"Wrong! Wrong! All wrong! And yet it seemed right to love God's
creatures.... Perhaps I loved them too much. So I am punished.... But,
after all, He knows: He understands. If they put me out of His church,
perhaps He will let me serve Him somewhere--somehow--I don't know where:
He knows. Oh, my God, if I have loved another more than Thee, forgive
me ... and let me rest ... for I am tired--tired--tired----"

The voice sank into an inarticulate murmur, in which the novice,
frightened and perplexed, could not distinguish words. Then there was
silence. One little sigh escaped those lips, and that was all. The
novice turned and fled, terrified at those words of prayer, which seemed
to him so different from any that he had ever heard--so different that
they must be wrong!

At four in the morning the monks came in to chant their morning prayer.
One by one they dropped into their places, scarcely noticing the
prostrate figure before the altar-steps. It was usual enough for one of
their number, or even a stranger staying in the monastery, to humiliate
himself in that manner as a public penance. The Prior only gave a little
start, as if an electric shock passed through his frame, when, on taking
his seat in the choir, his eye fell upon that mot