TE17 Mysterious Montenegro

Dominik apathetically. We could no longer hear his fiery sermons, and he isolated himself, not wanting to mix with anyone or even speak with me. And I, the Lord forgive me, backed away with relief. Our ever rarer encounters did not give me the same satisfaction as before. There was no longer that tingling uncertainty evoked by his ebullient mind and tempestuous nature. Toward off loneliness, I soon found myself going down to the lake below the city with the Svač brethren. I loved the clear mornings when our oars cut the smooth surface of the water and the deep laughter of Evander, who enjoyed the fishing and joked about taciturn, good-natured Brother Nemesius—whenever he caught a fish, it would slip out of his hands again. Those days I pushed away the memories of rivers of blood, imperceptibly I became ever surer of salvation, and I began to hope, but before I could hope for long I collided with—Dominik! One evening, as I was preparing for my repose, Dominik hammered with his fist on the door of my cell. He was furious. At the very threshold he grabbed me and shoved me away, such that I crashed into the wall with my back, knocked over the oil lamp, and we were in the dark.

“Give me back my will, you worthless creature!”

His labored breathing filled the room, and it seemed to me to last an eternity. I said nothing. He fell to his knees beside me and began to sob. I felt as if I had died and was lying on my bier,

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