whom thou didst despoil. As it is, a hundred years of purgatorial penance will suffice to whiten thy soul as new silver; had it been otherwise, hadst thou assailed a Christian, not a thousand years would have purged thee. Farewell!”
The monk had just quitted his penitent, who, unable to appreciate the advantage of having only one hundred years of purgatory, was perfectly terror-struck and inconsolable, when, at the entrance to the prison, he passed Rubezahl, who, however, was invisible, not having yet made up his mind in what form he should proceed to fulfil his purpose of setting the poor tailor at liberty, in such a manner as not to spoil the sport of the magistracy of Hirschberg, by depriving them of the sight of a hanging, adjudged in virtue of their high and mighty power and privileges; for, sooth to say, their offhand method of administering justice had tickled his fancy mightily. On sight of the confessor, an idea struck him which he immediately adopted. He followed the monk to his convent, stole from the vestiary a dress of the order, put it on, and, as Brother Graurock, presented himself at the gate of the prison, which was respectfully opened to him by the gaoler.
“Although I have but this moment quitted thee,” said he to the tailor, “yet my anxiety for the good of thy soul brings me once more back to thee. Con-
