He laid aside his cassock, and loosened his clothing
so that his breast lay bare. He took from a drawer a little crucifix of
iron. This he placed across the chimney of the gas-burner, and watched
it until it was heated. Then he seized it with his fingers, but the
stinging pain made him drop it to the floor. He bared his breast,
wildly calling aloud to heaven, and flung himself down upon the
crucifix, pressing the hot iron to his naked bosom. A fierce shudder
convulsed him; he extended his arms in the form of a cross, and with
closed eyes lay still an instant. A horrible odor filled the room;
great drops of sweat dripped from his forehead; his teeth were set in
his lower lip. For a moment he remained motionless; then in
uncontrollable agony he writhed over upon his back and fainted.
The return to consciousness was a terrible sensation of misery and
weakness. He was heart-sick and racked in body and mind. Feebly he
rose, and gathered his scattered senses. Then with trembling he got to
his feet. His wound gave him bitter agony, but the bodily pain made him
smile. He took from the same drawer a picture of the Madonna, and knelt
before it with clasped hands.
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