The Priest returned. He has white hair, a very gentle look, a good and
respectable countenance, and is a charitable man. This morning I saw him
empty his purse into the hands of the prisoners. Whence is it then that
his voice causes no emotion, and he does not ever seem affected by his
own theme? Whence is it that he has as yet said nothing which has won on
my intellect or my heart?
This morning I was bewildered; I scarcely heard what he said; his words
seemed to me useless, and I remained indifferent; they glided away like
those drops of rain off the window-panes of my cell.
Nevertheless, when he came just now to my room, his appearance did me
good. Amongst all mankind he is the only one who is still a brother for
me, I reflected; and I felt an ardent thirst for good and consoling
words.