After which, I was hunted down, pursued, persecuted, blackened, jeered at, scorned, cursed, proscribed.

For many years past, I with my white hair have been conscious that many people think they have the right to despise me; to the poor ignorant masses I present the visage of one damned.

And I accept this isolation of hatred, without hating any one myself.

Now I am eighty-six years old; I am on the point of death.

What is it that you have come to ask of me ?" "Your blessing," said the Bishop.
And he knelt down.
When the Bishop raised his head again, the face of the conventionary had become august.