"Oh, that my old eyes should witness such shame! What have you done, you children of Satan? If you stood before me--as fallen Magdalens--as murderesses--from my heart I could pity you. But my soul revolts at your crime, and the sharpest scourge is too gentle for such as you. Only the day before yesterday, in proud joy, I reported to the General of the order--the convent of Marienthron is an undefiled sanctuary, and proof against heresy. Now--I am made a liar, my pride is humbled, my glory put to shame! Holy Mother of God, hide thy face from this iniquity, nor, because of the sin of these nine, do thou punish the whole of this consecrated house. Their crime shall be visited with heavy punishment, that the stain may be wiped away! But you--you--you--why do you stand? On your knees with you! Into the dust!" The nuns fell upon their knees, and silently kissed the withered hand of the abbess, in gratitude for the promised punishment--for the convent discipline had taught them to receive punishment as a benefaction. At the evening meal, and on the day following, there were nine vacant places in the refectory. The penitents were locked in their cells, on bread and water; and in the fervor of her holy zeal, the abbess undertook the task of listening at the doors, to make sure that the prisoners recited the prescribed number of prayers. On the fourth day the unhappy nuns were released, but only to be subjected to the deepest humiliation. During the celebration of the Mass, they sat apart from the others, upon the penitent's bench, and while the priest intoned the penitential litany, they were obliged to creep upon their knees to the steps of the altar, striking their breasts with their hands, until the cleansing virtue of holy water and the fumes of incense had dispelled the odor of heresy. The abbess, after they had kissed her feet, then pronounced the formula of absolution, by which they were again received into the fellowship of the children of God. But it was her lips only, that spoke the words--her eyes expressed unappeased hatred, which imparted itself to the other nuns, and made the convent more than ever a hell on earth to the unfortunate heretics. They were passed by without a glance or a word, and treated as though they had forfeited the right of dwelling in this sacred spot. They were outlawed, and the bitter need of their hearts, teaching them the insufficiency of prayers learned by rote, constrained them to cast themselves personally before the throne of grace, and like Jacob of old, to wrestle with the Lord in fervent prayer. * * * * * * * * * * "Where is Klaus?" asked the abbess of the lay brother, who was busy with his spade among the vegetable beds of the convent garden. Slowly lifting his head, the brother answered: "He went away to buy seeds." "Where?" "He did not tell me--probably to Erfurt." CHAPTER III. DAWN.