will,' Grant me until to-morrow early to think of this."

"Very well. Take this letter to your cell, and pray God that He give you light. For it is true that the mission we lay upon you is more difficult than any into the land of the Scythian or Hyperborean. Omnia ad majorem Dei gloriam."

Peter went to his cell. It was a small narrow room, five feet long and two feet wide, with only a bed, and on the wall a crucifix. Yet the whole night long, he did not lie down on his bed, but, like a lion in a cage, he went back and forth over the five feet of space. There on the bed lay the letter, and on the bed where that letter lay, he could not lay his head. Toward morning, his decision became strong. He pushed the letter off the bed and threw himself down, and then weariness overpowered him; he slept so soundly that even the matin bell did not rouse him; and he first wakened when the Abbot shook him by the arm. He sprang up.

"Well, Peter, what is your decision?"

"This," replied Peter, treading under foot the letter as it lay on the floor.

"Very well, then get up and follow me; the two delinquents are awaiting their punishment."

"Wait; the Prior told me that the two years of the novitiate in which I was to do menial service were over. Now follow three years of study; then three years more of pilgrimage among hostile people. The Prior did not say anything about such hangman's service as this."

"Oh, yes, he did, Peter; recollect, he said, finally you are to go to Spain: that meant that you are to spend a year in the service of the Holy Inquisition. Come and begin your practice now."

Peter's nerves quivered with horror. Tightly did he press his arms to his sides and his face grew deadly pale. He raised his eyes to Heaven and his mouth opened.

A vision passed before him of human wisdom in dog's shape, and of canine rage in man's shape—of Ivan the Terrible—of the Saracens—of the torture-chamber of Arbucs. It was more than his mind could bear. His knees gave way under him; he sank down; took up the letter trodden under foot and folded it together; concealed it in his bosom, and said, "I will go."

CHAPTER II.

THE FOOLS OF THE CASTLE.

That very day went forth from the Convent the answer to the letter of the Baroness. It read: "For the high office of instructing our future baron, Father Peter has been chosen. He will install himself to-morrow at the castle."

For this new rôle, Father Peter received a new costume. No one would have recognized the beggar-monk of yesterday in this figure of to-day, clad in silken robe with buckled shoes; as, with a large book under his arm, he turned from the highway into the entrance of the Madocsany castle, barely a thousand paces distant from the monastery.

This castle was formerly shunned by everybody. In the first place, the court swarmed with hunting dogs of every kind, which dashed out at every arrival, and fairly tore the travellers from their carriages; then the young lord had a custom of lying in wait with a few intimates, and shooting at passers-by with an air gun, on a wager; then inside the court was a peacock, which flew at everybody's head and tried to peck out his eyes. Man and beast were trained here to harass the stranger. The day when the arrival of Father Peter was expected, the mistress took care to have her beloved child's air gun put away, for the round Jesuit hat would be altogether too convenient a target; she had had part of the pack of hounds driven into the poultry yard, leaving out only the blood-hounds and pointers; but she could not herself take care that a respectful reception should await the pious father, for just at the time of his arrival, the forester brought word that the night before the lord of Mitosin, with a troop of hunters, had crossed the Waag and shot down deer and other game; and when the gamekeepers tried to withstand this mad chase, they had been bound to trees, and the game had been dragged away.

The mistress of the castle fell into an ungovernable rage; sent at once for her stewards and agent, and prepared for a frightful retaliation by the most violent means.

Between the castles of Madocsany and Mitosin was an ancient feud that each lord took care to settle with his own hand. But when one of these domains passed into the hands of a woman, the situation became worse; for woman is less yielding than man. The preparations for revenge caused the mistress of the castle to forget entirely the arrival of Father Peter; so he was received by nobody but the dogs and the fools, in which latter class must be counted the young lord.

Nine blood-hounds and pointers plunged for the monk when his sable figure appeared in the gateway. But the monk did not act like those people who in their fright run this way and that, throwing out their arms, and provoking the spectator to laughter, but he remained standing quietly before the dogs—he had owned a fine pack once himself—and when they came baying around him, opened his large book and closed it noisily.

The dogs thought he had shot, and dashed off in every direction to hunt for the game, while the monk walked calmly into the castle court. The young Lord, the haiduk, the master of the hounds, and the fool were entertaining themselves playing ball.

"See, here comes the instructor," cried Matyi, the haiduk. "What a marvel that the dogs have not eaten him," said Petyko, the master of the hounds, greatly astonished. "Hit the monk in the back with the ball," the young Lord called out to the fool, who had the ball in his hand, and if he hit him it was bound to leave a big spot on the silken robe.

Hirsko, the fool, did as bidden. The monk caught the ball, and threw it back at the Fool with such force that his bearskin cap flew off his head. This pleased the young Lord greatly.

"That's a fine monk! Come here, Monk. So you know how to play ball! How the devil is that? I thought monks knew only how to pray. Can you throw a ball as far as Matyi? He is a strong fellow. See how far the ball has gone; he almost hit the window. See what you can do."

Father Peter took the bat and struck the ball with such force into the air that it flew over the roof of the castle. All were carried away with admiration.

"That's a rare monk!" said the young Lord. "I can learn to play 'Longa' and 'Meta' with him."

"Does your Honor know Latin already?" asked Father Peter of the boy.

"Latin! What's that got to do with this?"

"Why, 'Longa' means long, and 'Meta' means a goal. So in playing we add to learning."

"Really?"

"We make a kite out of what is to be learned, and while we let the kite go, the learning remains."

"So you understand kite-flying, do you? Have you ever seen a kite as large as mine? See how stout the cord is to hold by. Matyi can break this the first time trying. Show us, Matyi."

"That's nothing," said Father Peter, and with that he put the cord together three times and broke it.

"My, that's a strong monk! What's the Latin for kite?"

"Draco."

"And paper?"

"Charta."

"And the frame?"

"Arcus."

"I know all that. That's quite easy, Hirsko."

"It's got to be easy," said the Fool, an ugly dwarf, with a monstrously large head and hideous countenance. "The gracious Lady has given orders that the instructor shall teach the young Lord everything within one year, in such a manner that the young Lord shall not have to study anything."

"That is always the way, you know," said Father Peter. "Every young Lord keeps a small boy to be whipped, and when the young Lord