Chapter 7

_Abbot_. Did she say _Julian_? Did she say the name?

_Monk_. She did.

_Abbot_. What did she call the lady? What?

_Monk_. I could not hear.

_Abbot_. Nor where she lived? _Monk_. Nor that. She was too wild for leading where I would.

_Abbot_. So! Send Julian. One thing I need not ask: You have kept this matter secret?

_Monk_. Yes, my lord. _Abbot_. Well, go and send him hither.

[Monk _goes_.] Said I well, That prayer would burgeon into pomp for me? That God would hear his own elect who cried? Now for a shrine, so glowing in the means That it shall draw the eyes by power of light! So tender in conceit, that it shall draw The heart by very strength of delicateness, And move proud thought to worship! I must act With caution now; must win his confidence; Question him of the secret enemies That fight against his soul; and lead him thus To tell me, by degrees, his history. So shall I find the truth, and lay foundation For future acts, as circumstance requires. For if the tale be true that he is rich, And if----

_Re-enter _Monk _in haste and terror_.

_Monk_. He's gone, my lord! His cell is empty.

_Abbot_ (_starting up_). What! You are crazy! Gone? His cell is empty?

_Monk_. 'Tis true as death, my lord. Witness, these eyes!

_Abbot_. Heaven and hell! It shall not be, I swear! There is a plot in this! You, sir, have lied! Some one is in his confidence!--who is it? Go rouse the convent.

[Monk _goes_.]

He must be followed, found. Hunt's up, friend Julian! First your heels, old stag! But by and by your horns, and then your side! 'Tis venison much too good for the world's eating. I'll go and sift this business to the bran. Robert and him I have sometimes seen together!--God's curse! it shall fare ill with any man That has connived at this, if I detect him.