The brethren were one and all incapable of speech. "When the father sees the state of his son--what will happen?" That was the thought that filled every mind.
"Your son refuses to appear," he said. "He has this very hour renewed his oath never to quit the cloister--and he will not see you."
"You silly fellow! you crazy fool! Do you suppose that I--the Count of Reichenberg--can be sent home like a blockhead, with such an answer as that? Aye, you may glare at me with your wolfish eyes--they cannot pierce my mailed breast. Fetch the boy, on the spot--or I will search the building for him through and through."
"He must come, there is no help for it;" the Abbot whispered to Correntian. "You are not afraid that we cannot rely upon him now, when this severe punishment--"
Correntian smiled. "Be easy," he said; then turning to Reichenberg, "I will bring him to you, that he may tell you himself--then you will believe me."
The Count paced the room with long strides; was it near at last--this consummation--did he at last see the term set to half a life-time of remorse and goading despair? Oh! when he held his son in his arms, in those strong arms, nothing should tear him from them--he would make up for everything.
Minute after minute passed, louder and faster beat the father's heart--more and more shrank the terrified souls of the monks--"How will it end?"
Now--now close to the door--the footsteps of two men--but slow, much too slow for the father's eager impatience. Reichenberg rushed to the door to meet him--the monks turned away not to witness the terrible scene. There stood the longed for son, pale and wasted, and his face covered with a blood-stained bandage. The father tottered back--his eyes fixed, petrified with horror at this vision of suffering. But no! this is not he, he is deceived; this is not Donatus. "Donatus!" he cried, with a choked utterance, "Donatus, my son--where is he?"
"I am here," answered the youth. The father, to convince himself, snatched away the bandage from his face--his son was before him--eyeless!
A cry broke from the strong man that made the monks' blood run cold; "Blind--blinded--my son--blinded. Who has done it?"
"I myself," said the young monk, in a firm voice.