"_Et quis est qui vobis noceat?_" he demanded. "'Who is he that can hurt you?' _Humiliamini sub potenti manu Dei, ut vos exaltet in tempore visitationis; omnem sollicitudinem vestram projicientes in eum, quoniam ipsi cura est de vobis_. 'Humble yourself under God's mighty hand, that He may exalt you in the time of visitation; casting upon Him all your care, because He careth for you.'" Growing fatigued at last, he sat down and became fully conscious for the first time of his miter and crozier and cope. Praying Father Isidoro to divest him of this magnificence, he seemed to recover strength again as he faced the fathers clad simply in his habit with a gold cross upon his breast. With the laying aside of his pomps his manner became more intimate and free. "I have been preparing," he said, "for this blow. The characters of those men who have struck us left me little hope. Dom Pedro's advisers are taking a leaf from the book of the English King Henry the Eighth. They want money so as to carry on a spendthrift government, and they want lands and great houses so as to create a new aristocracy which will maintain them in power. Therefore the monasteries must be besmirched by false accusations and God must be robbed." "But, my father, we shall resist," broke out Brother Cypriano, clenching his enormous hands. The Abbot shook his head sadly. "No," he said, "there can only be one end. We are men of peace, not of blood. In my weakness and sickness our Lord has seemed to open my eyes to the future. Saint Peter's words might be mine: _Certus quod velox est deposito tabernaculi mei secundum quod et Dominus noster Jesus Christus significavit mihi_. I am 'certain that the laying down of my tabernacle is at hand, as our Lord Jesus Christ also hath signified to me.' Fathers and brethren, to-morrow will see the end of this community. For more than three hundred years Saint Benedict's children have sought to live by his Holy Rule on this spot; but to-morrow ends all. We can do no more than frustrate the sacrilegious greed of this foreign Visconde and save our patrimony for Portugal." Taken by themselves the Abbot's words would not have stifled discussion, and even the unconditional obedience they owed to him would not have held back the more militant monks from trying to defeat his will. But the unearthly light in the old man's eyes, which had so terrified the Viscount, beamed forth upon these men like a pillar of fire guiding them in God's way. Even the burly and unmystical Cypriano yielded to the spell. Accordingly no one felt that there was anything dictatorial in the Abbot's procedure when he took their assent for granted and passed quietly on to arrange the details of the community's last hours beneath its historic roofs.