Next day, at vespers, Jasper anxiously fixed his gaze on the
stained-glass window--again a glow came from it, and as he moved the
head seemed to incline itself; but now Jasper saw it was only the sun
shining through the window--only the sun! Then the heaviness descended
into the deepest parts of Jasper's soul, and he despaired.
The night came and Jasper returned to his cell.... He leant against the
door, looking out through the little window, but he could only see the
darkness. And he likened it to the darkness in his own soul.
'What shall I do?' he groaned.
He could not tell the monks that it was not a miracle he had seen; he
could not tell them that he had lost faith again.... And then his
thoughts wandering to the future,--
'Must I remain all my life in this cold monastery? If there is no God,
if I have but one life, what is the good of it? Why cannot I enjoy my
short existence as other men? Am not I young--am not I of the same flesh
and blood as they?'
Vague recollections came to him of those new lands beyond the ocean,
those lands of sunshine and sweet odours. His mind became filled with a
vision of broad rivers, running slow and cool, overshadowed by strange,
luxuriant trees. And all was a wealth of beautiful colour.
'Oh, I cannot stay!' he cried; 'I cannot stay!'
And it was a land of loving-kindness, a land of soft-eyed, gentle women.
'I cannot stay! I cannot stay!'
The desire to go forth was overwhelming, the walls of his cell seemed
drawing together to crush him; he must be free. Oh, for life! life! He
started up, not seeing the madness of his adventure; he did not think of
the snow-covered desert, the night, the distance from a town. He saw
before him the glorious sunshine of a new life, and he went towards it
like a blind man, with outstretched arms.
Everyone was asleep in the monastery. He crept out of his cell and
silently opened the door of the porter's lodge; the porter was sleeping
heavily. Jasper took the keys and unlocked the gate. He was free. He
took no notice of the keen wind blowing across the desert; he hurried
down the hill, slipping on the frozen snow.... Suddenly he stopped; he
had caught sight of the great crucifix which stood by the wayside at the
bottom of the hill. Then the madness of it all occurred to him. Wherever
he went he would find the crucifix, even beyond the sea, and nowhere
would he be able to forget his God. Always the recollection, always the
doubt, and he would never have rest till he was in the grave. He went
close to it and looked up; it was one of those strange Spanish
crucifixes--a wooden image with long, thin arms and legs and protruding
ribs, with real hair hanging over the shoulders, and a true crown of
thorns placed on the head; the ends of the tattered cloth fastened about
the loins fluttered in the wind. In the night the lifelikeness was
almost ghastly; it might have been a real man that hung there, with
great nails through his feet. The common people paid superstitious
reverence to it, and Jasper had often heard the peasants tell of the
consolations they had received.
Why should not he too receive consolation? Was his soul not as worth
saving as theirs? A last spark of hope filled him, and he lifted himself
up on tip-toe to touch the feet.
'Oh, Christ, come down to me! tell me whether Thou art indeed a God. Oh,
Christ, help me!'
But the words lost themselves in the wind and night.... Then a great
rage seized him that he alone should receive no comfort. He clenched
his fists and beat passionately against the cross.
'Oh, you are a cruel God! I hate you, I hate you!'
If he could have reached it he would have torn the image down, and beat
it as he had been beaten. In his impotent rage he shrieked out curses
upon it--he blasphemed.
But his strength spent itself and he sank to the foot of the cross,
bursting into tears. In his self-pity he thought his heart was broken.
Lifting himself to his knees, he clasped the wood with his hands and
looked up for the last time at the dead face of Christ.
It was the end.... A strange peace came over him as the anguish of his
mind fell away before the cold. His hands and his feet were senseless,
he felt his heart turning to ice--and he felt nothing.
In a little while the snow began to fall, lightly covering his
shoulders. Brother Jasper knew the secret of death at last.