“Cannot now obtain pardon even for myself. You are right, sir. I had too little reverence for the future, it has punished me by showing me that its power is greater than mine.” The minister bent his head. “God is great!” said he. Then he raised his kind eyes to Ordener, adding, “God is good!” Ordener, who seemed preoccupied, exclaimed, after a brief pause: “Listen, sir; I will keep the promise which I made you in Vygla tower. When I am dead, go to Bergen, seek out my father, the viceroy of Norway, and tell him that the last favor which his son asks of him is to pardon your twelve protégés. He will grant it, I am sure.” A tear of emotion moistened the wrinkled cheek of Athanasius. “My son, your soul must be filled with noble thoughts, if in the self-same hour you can reject your own pardon and generously implore that of others. For I heard your refusal; and although I blame such dangerous and inordinate affection, I was deeply touched by it. Now I ask myself,--_unde scelus_?--how could a man who approaches so near to the model of true justice soil his conscience with the crime for which you are condemned?” “Father, I did not tell my secret to this angel; I cannot reveal it to you. But believe that I am not condemned for any crime of mine.” “What? Explain yourself, my son!” “Do not urge me,” firmly answered the young man. “Let me take my secret with me to the grave.” “This man cannot be guilty,” muttered the minister. Then drawing from his breast a black crucifix, he placed it on a sort of altar rudely shaped from a granite slab resting against the damp prison wall. Beside the crucifix he laid a small lighted lamp which he had brought with him, and an open Bible. “My son, meditate and pray; I will return a few hours hence. Come,” he added, turning to Ethel, who during this conversation had preserved a solemn silence, “we must leave the prisoner. Our time has passed.” She rose, calm and radiant; a divine spark flashed from her eyes as she said: “Sir, I cannot go yet; you must first unite Ethel Schumacker to her husband, Ordener Guldenlew.” She looked at Ordener. “If you were still free, happy, and powerful, my Ordener, I should weep, and I should shrink from linking [Illustration: _The Marriage of Ethel and Ordener._ Photo-Etching.--From drawing by Démarest.] my fatal destiny with yours. But now that you need no longer dread the contagion of my misfortune; that you, like me, are a captive, disgraced and oppressed; now that you are about to die, I come to you, hoping that you will at least deign, Ordener, my lord and husband, to allow her who could never have shared your life, to be your companion in death; for you love me too much, do you not, to doubt for an instant that I shall die with you?” The prisoner fell at her feet, and kissed the hem of her gown.