But when he saw the light coming in the east, with the glorious gold and orange clouds, and then the bright sunshine of a new day, he began to think of how sad it would be for that young man, cut down as he had been in a moment, to be left to die when perhaps he might be saved.

He thought, too, about trees that had been cut years before, and which had been healthy and well ever since, and that morning, feeling stronger in his determination, he went to the cell where the patient lay, to talk to him, and the first thing the poor fellow said was:-- "`Tell me the truth, please.

I'm going to die, am I not ?' "The young monk was silent.
"`I know it,' said the swineherd sadly.

`I feel it now.' "Brother Anselm looked at him sadly for a few minutes and then said to him:-- "`I must not deceive you at such a time--yes; but one thing might save your life.' "`What is that ?' cried the poor fellow eagerly; and he told him as gently as he could of the great operation, expecting to see the patient shudder and turn faint.
"`Well,' he said, when the monk had ended, `why don't you do it ?' "`But would you rather suffer that--would you run the risk ?' "`Am I not a man ?' said the poor fellow calmly.

`Yes: life is very sweet, and I would bear any pain that I might live.' "That settled the matter, and the monk went out of the cell to shut himself up in his own and pray for the space of two hours, and the old monks said that it was all talk, and that he had given up his horrible idea; but the prior knew better, and he was not a bit surprised to see Anselm coming out of his cell looking brave, and calm, and cool.
"Then he took a bottle of plant juice that he knew helped to stop bleeding, and he got ready his bandages, and his keenest knives, and his saw, and a bowl of water, and then he thought for a bit, and ended by asking the monks which of them would help him, but they all shrank away and turned pale, all but the prior, who said he would help, and then they went into the poor fellow's cell." Old Brownsmith stopped here, and kept on stroking one of the cats for such a long time, beginning at the tip of his nose and going right on to the end of his tail, that I grew impatient.
"And did he perform the operation ?" I said eagerly.
"Yes, bravely and well, but of course very clumsily for want of experience.