'
The abbot's brow rested upon his hand. It was thus he had listened,
unmoving, throughout the story; nor did he now stir, until Basil,
having ceased alike from speaking and from tears, had sat for a
little while in stillness and reflection. Then at length he turned
his eyes upon the young man, and spoke with sad gravity.
'Even so, even so. You gave your heart to a woman, and worshipped at
her feet, and behold there has come upon you the guilt of blood.
Not, you would protest, through your own fault; your friend was
false to you, and in just wrath you slew him. Who made you, O Basil,
his judge and his executioner?'
'Father, I seek not to excuse my sin.'
'It is well. And what penance will you lay upon yourself?'
Utterly subdued by awe, oblivious of his own will in the presence of
one so much more powerful, Basil murmured that whatever penance the
man of God saw fit to impose that would he perform.
'Nay,' said Benedict gently, 'that is too like presumption. Say
rather, you would endeavour to perform it. I will believe that if I
bade you fast long, or repeat many prayers, you would punctually
obey me.
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