But, alas, I am a great sinner, Mayhap the next will catch me, What is the next?""We have not yet done with this one.Bethink thee, the Church is not to be trifled with.""Alas! am I in a condition to trifle with her now? Avarice?
Avarice?"
He looked puzzled and innocent.
"Hast thou ever robbed the fatherless?" inquired the friar.
"Me? robbed the fatherless?" gasped Ghysbrecht; "not that I mind.""Once more, my son, I am forced to tell thee thou art trifling with the Church.Miserable man! another evasion, and I leave thee, and fiends will straightway gather round thy bed, and tear thee down to the bottomless pit.""Oh, leave me not! leave me not!" shrieked the terrified old man.
"The Church knows all.I must have robbed the fatherless.I will confess.Who shall I begin with? My memory for names is shaken."The defence was skilful, but in this case failed.
"Hast thou forgotten Floris Brandt?" said Clement stonily.
The sick man reared himself in bed in a pitiable state of terror.
"How knew you that?" said he.
"The Church knows many things," said Clement coldly, "and by many ways that are dark to thee, Miserable impenitent, you called her to your side, hoping to deceive her, You said, 'I will not confess to the cure but to some friar who knows not my misdeeds.So will Icheat the Church on my deathbed, and die as I have lived,' But God, kinder to thee than thou art to thyself, sent to thee one whom thou couldst not deceive.He has tried thee; He was patient with thee, and warned thee not to trifle with Holy Church; but all is in vain; thou canst not confess; for thou art impenitent as a stone.Die, then, as thou hast lived.Methinks I see the fiends crowding round the bed for their prey.They wait but for me to go.
And I go."
He turned his back; but Ghysbrecht, in extremity of terror, caught him by the frock."Oh, holy man, mercy! stay.I will confess all, all.I robbed my friend Floris, Alas! would it had ended there;for he lost little by me; but I kept the land from Peter his son, and from Margaret, Peter's daughter.Yet I was always going to give it back; but I couldn't, I couldn't.""Avarice, my son, avarice, Happy for thee 'tis not too late.""No; I will leave it her by will.She will not have long to wait for it now; not above a month or two at farthest.""For which month's possession thou wouldst damn thy soul for ever, Thou fool!"The sick man groaned, and prayed the friar to be reasonable.
The friar firmly, but gently and persuasively, persisted, and with infinite patience detached the dying man's gripe from another's property.There were times when his patience was tried, and he was on the point of thrusting his hand into his bosom and producing the deed, which he had brought for that purpose; but after yesterday's outbreak he was on his guard against choler; and to conclude, he conquered his impatience; he conquered a personal repugnance to the man, so strong as to make his own flesh creep all the time he was struggling with this miser for his soul; and at last, without a word about the deed, he won upon him to make full and prompt restitution.
How the restitution was made will be briefly related elsewhere:
also certain curious effects produced upon Ghysbrecht by it; and when and on what terms Ghysbrecht and Clement parted.
I promised to relate two acts of the latter, indicative of his mind.
This is one.The other is told in two words.
As soon as he was quite sure Margaret had her own, and was a rich woman -He disappeared.