"Do you know," said he, "what will be done to you for this?" "No, sir," said I, "I do not know," and I was about to add, "I do not care," but I restrained myself. He went out, and for a long time I expected to be called to account, but I heard no more of it. The Abbess, however, went on in the old way, tormenting me on every occasion. One day the priests had a quarrel among themselves, and if I had said a DRUNKEN QUARREL, I do not think it would have been a very great mistake. In the fray they stabbed one of their number in the side, drew him out of his room, and left him on the floor in the hall of the main building, but one flight of stairs above the kitchen. Two nuns, who did the chamber work, came down stairs, and, seeing him lie there helpless and forsaken, they took him by the hair of the head and drew him down to the kitchen. Here they began to torment him in the most cruel manner. They burned sticks in the fire until the end was a live coal, put them into his hands and closed them, pressing the burning wood into the flesh, and thus producing the most exquisite pain. At least this would have been the result if he had realized their cruelty. But I think he was insensible before they touched him, or if not, must have died very soon after, for I am sure he was dead when I first saw him. I went to them and remonstrated against such inhuman conduct. But one of the nuns replied, "That man has tormented me more than I can him, if I do my best, and I wish him to know how good it is." "But," said I, "some one will come in, and you will be caught in the act." "I'll risk that," said she, "they are quarreling all over the house, and will have enough to do to look after each other for a while, I assure you." "But the man is dead," said I. "How can you treat a senseless corpse in that way?" "I'm afraid he is dead," she replied, he don't move at all, and I can't feel his heart beat; but I did hope to make him realize how good the fire feels." Meanwhile, the blood was flowing from the wound in his side, and ran over the floor. The sight of this alarmed them, and they drew him into another dark hall, and left him beside the door of a room used for punishment. They then came back, locked the hall door, and washed up the blood. They expected to be punished for moving the dead body, but the floor was dry before any of the priests came in, and I do not think it was ever known. Perhaps they did not remember events as distinctly as they might under other circumstances, and it is very possible, that, when they found the corpse they might not have been able to say whether it was where they left it, or not. We all rejoiced over the death of that priest. He was a very cruel man; had punished me times without number, but, though I was glad he was dead, I could not have touched him when he lay helpless and insensible.