"During my short stay in France, I belonged to a convent of Carthusian monks, and there became acquainted with the man whose confession constitutes my story. He had applied for admission to our order, as one who had tired of life's gaieties, and bestowed his wealth, which was enormous, upon the holy church. Brother Dominique was the name he assumed; and his austere devotion speedily gained him notoriety for great piety; but there was something so unnatural in his actions, and, at times, so incoherent in his speech, that we, who were his daily companions, involuntarily shuddered when he spoke to us. Among the various incongruities of his character, was a gloomy reserve--or, rather, pride, which repulsed all advances of friendship, and impressed upon the mind a conviction that Brother Dominique's religion was more like that of a hypocrite foiled in his schemes, than of a pure-minded man, whose sense of duty to his Creator had induced him to assume the serge and rosary. This conviction was more than confirmed by his occasional exclamations of anger and defiance, as though once more a prey to the passions of an outer world; and, at the expiration of a year from the time of his entrance, the new brother was an object of suspicion, if not dislike, to the whole convent, excepting myself. "My sentiments in regard to him were those of pity; for I felt confident that some great sorrow was preying upon his mind; and the wild agony which would often contort his whole countenance, while at evening prayers, made me anxious to know something of his history. "One evening, having received an order to visit the cell of Dominique from our superior, I was surprised to find a curiously-fashioned lamp, burning in a niche, directly opposite an iron cot, on which the monk was sleeping. Knowing that the convent rules expressly forbade a light at that hour, I was about to extinguish it, when there fell upon my startled ear a loud yell, like that of a springing tiger, and, in an instant, I was seized by the throat. Filled with dismay, I struggled to extricate myself, when the beams of the lamp fell upon the writhing features of Dominique, pallid as those of a corpse, and spattered with froth from his lips. "'Devil, I defy thee!' he exclaimed, dashing me violently against the wall; and then quitting his hold. "'Brother Dominique, are you mad?' I asked, as soon as I could recover my breath. "'It is a lie! I am not mad!' he ejaculated, glaring fiercely upon me, and biting his lip until the blood streamed from his beard. "Hardly knowing what I did, I again approached the lamp; when he again sprang to my side, and pushed me violently from before it. "'Must I kill you, too?' he said, in a whisper that pierced me. "'You are excited,' I replied, with all the calmness I could muster. 'I thought you were asleep, or I should first have spoken to you about your lamp, the burning of which, at this late hour, is a violation of the rules.'