When the morning sun rose above the horizon, Nanning had regained his composure and his approaching end no longer satisfied him with the same fear as the previous day. His face was deadly pale, but his movements were swift and resilient. Still, a shudder fell over him when he heard the bolts of the door slide and saw it open slowly.
A priest entered to prepare him for the terrible moment that awaited him.
Nanning threw himself on his knees reverently, bowing his head to the ground. The priest, a venerable old man, stared at him for a few seconds with sincere pity. Then he held his hands benevolently over his head, and spoke with a grave, but kind voice:
“Receive my blessing, my son. God may have mercy on you and forgive you for what you have committed. “