Here in this cloister they had paced up and down; here they had prayed and dreamed till they had to make over their poor souls to the intercession of their saints.

In the centre of this building Wendel now opened a secret door, and led his companions down a winding staircase into a large vault.

This had once been used as the cellar of the rich cloister, and down that same staircase the cellarer had gone--ah! how often--wandering between the casks, tasting here and tasting there; and at the ringing of the little bell above him, bowing his head and saying a short prayer, and then returning to taste again, or in comfortable mood to walk up and down.

The prayer-bell of the cloister had been melted down long ago; the empty cells were in ruins, the cattle fed where once the prior sat at the head of his brethren at their stately meal.

All had vanished; the cellar only remained, and the casks of fiery Hungarian wine stood as they did five hundred years before.