The eyes of all were now directed upon Eugenia, who stood forsaken amid the throng. She had been lying weeping in her cell when she was arrested with the monks, and had stood all that time, her eyes downcast and her cowl drawn deep down over her head, and felt herself in a most awkward predicament. For, if she preserved the secret of her family and sex, she would succumb to this false testimony, while, if she revealed it, the storm would break out against the convent more furiously than ever, and she would devote it to destruction, since a convent which had a beautiful young woman for abbot was bound to become the butt of the most unholy suspicion and mockery on the part of the malicious heathen world. She would not have experienced this timidity and indecision had she still had a pure heart, according to monkish notions; but the events of the previous night had already made a division in her mind, and her unfortunate encounter with the wicked woman had only increased her wavering, so that she no longer possessed the courage to step forward with determination and bring about a miracle. Yet, when Aquilinus called upon her to speak, she remembered his former tenderness for her, and, as she had confidence in him, she hit upon a way of escape. In gentle and modest tones she said that she was not guilty and would prove it to the consul, if she might speak with him alone. The sound of her voice moved Aquilinus, though he knew not why, and he acceded to her request to speak with him in private. He accordingly had her conducted into his house, and repaired alone with her into a room. Then Eugenia fixed her eyes upon him, threw back her cowl and said, "I am Eugenia, whom you once desired for your wife." He recognized her at once, and was convinced that it was she; but at the same time a great anger and a burning jealousy rose up within his breast to think that the lost one so suddenly recovered should make her appearance as a woman who had been living all that time in secrecy with seventy monks. He therefore restrained himself with a violent effort and scrutinized her narrowly, while he made as if he did not believe her assertion in the slightest, and said, "You certainly do seem rather like that infatuated young woman. But that does not concern me; I am much more anxious to know what you did to the widow!" Eugenia shyly and anxiously told all that had passed, and from the whole tone of her story Aquilinus perceived the falsehood and malice of the accusation, yet he answered with apparent indifference, "But if you are Eugenia, then how did you contrive to become a monk? What was your intention, and how was it possible?"