The chaplain and Sintram prayed beside his couch.

The retainers knelt devoutly around.

At length the dying man said: "Is that the prayer-bell in Verena's cloister ?" Sintram's looks said yea; while warm tears fell on the colourless cheeks of his father.

A gleam shone in the old man's eyes, the morning cloud stood close over him, and then the gleam, the morning cloud, and life with them, departed from him..