"For a native Pole, you do not pronounce your own language remarkably well. To say the truth, you speak it rather like a German--How is this?" "For many years I have spoken nothing but German. Even while in Cracow, I had much intercourse with German students, who wished to learn from me our difficult language. Unawares, I may have accustomed myself to their accent, as one finds it very easy, when living in particular districts of the country, to adopt provincialisms." The judge here looked significantly on me. A slight smile passed over his features; and, turning to the secretary, he dictated to him something in a whisper, of which I could distinctly make out the words "visibly embarrassed." Hereupon I wished to say something farther, in excuse for my bad Polish, but the judge gave me no opportunity. "Have you never been in Königswald, where there is a large Capuchin Convent?" "Never." "The way hither from Königsberg should have led you to that town." "I took another road." "Have you never been acquainted with a monk from the convent there?" "Never." On receiving this answer, the judge rung the bell, and in a low voice gave an order to the attending officer. Soon afterwards, an opposite door opened, and how was my whole frame shaken, and my very heart withered by terror, when I beheld the old Brother Cyrillus! The judge asked, "Do you know this man?" "No. I have never seen him before." It was now the monk's turn to speak. He came nearer; looked at me stedfastly--then clasping his hands, while tears involuntarily burst from his eyes--"Medardus!" cried he, "Brother Medardus! In God's name, how comes it that I find you thus horribly changed? How came you into this condition of abandoned and obdurate wickedness? Brother Medardus, return into thyself--Confess--Repent!--The patience and long-suffering of God are infinite." "Can you then recognize this man," said the judge, "for the Monk Medardus from the Capuchin Convent in Königswald?" "As I hope for Heaven's mercy," answered Cyrillus, "it is impossible for me to think otherwise. I believe that this man, although he now appears in a lay dress, is that very Medardus, who lived under my care as a novice at the Capuchin Convent, and whom I attended at the altar on the day of his consecration. Yet Medardus had on his neck a scar, in the shape of a cross, on the left side, and if this man----" "You perceive," interposed the judge, turning to me, "that you are looked upon as a runaway monk from the town of Königswald, and you may rightly conjecture that the real monk alluded to has been guilty of serious crimes. But this man has a particular mark on his neck, which, according to your own account, you cannot have. This, therefore, at once gives you the best opportunity to prove your innocence. Untie your neckcloth."