h was separated by a door from his cell, and placed some of his
fruit, some water, and a little wine before him. When Antonio was
refresht, he was greatly pleased with the conversation of the monk,
who in earlier times had lived in the world, and served as a soldier
in many campaigns. In this way it had grown late in the night, and the
youth betook himself to his bed, just as another weak and sickly monk
entered, who meant to pass the night with the hermit in prayer.

When Antonio had rested about an hour he started suddenly out of his
sleep. It seemed to him as though loud voices were disputing. He sat
up; and all doubt about the quarelling and squabbling was removed. The
tones too struck him as if he knew them; and he askt himself whether
he was not dreaming. He went to the door, and found a crevice through
which he could pry into the front room.

How was he amazed at beholding Pietro Abano, whom he could not but
deem dead, speaking loudly, with eyes of rage and a red face, and
striding about with violent gestures! Over against him stood little
Beresynth's hideous carcase.

"So you have got your persecutor," cried the latter with a croaking
voice, "who has made you thus wretched, the lovesick godly fool, here
under your roof! he has run of his own accord like a silly rabbit into
the snare: and you are shillishallying about cutting his throat."

"Silence!" cried the large figure: "I have already taken counsel with
my spirits; they will not consent; I have no hold upon him; for he is
imprisoned in no sin."

"Smite him dead then," said the little one, "without your spirits,
with your own gracious hands: so his virtue and his sinlessness will
not avail him much; and I should be a sorry servant if I were not to
stand by you in so praiseworthy an exploit."

"Well then!" said Pietro: "let us go to work; take thou the hammer;
I'll carry the axe; he is fast asleep now."

They advanced toward the door; but Antonio tore it back, to meet the
villains boldly in the face. He had drawn his sword; but he remained
like a statue, standing with uplifted arm, when he saw two sickly
decrepit hermits lying on their knees before the cross, mumbling their
prayers.

"Do you want anything?" askt his host, rising toilsomely from the
floor. Antonio was so astounded, he could make no answer.

"Why that drawn sword?" askt the weak stooping hermit; "and wherefore
these menacing looks?"

Antonio drew back with the excuse that a frightful