"'It is time for your meal,' I answered.

"'One must eat!' he said. Then, as if conscious that he was behaving oddly, he added politely:

"'I know you entertain us too well here, and have sometimes been rewarded with coa.r.s.e ingrat.i.tude. Where do I go?'

"I showed him into the parlour. There was no one there that day. He sat at the long table.

"'I am to eat alone?' he asked.

"'Yes; I will serve you.'

"Francois, always waited on the guests, but that day--mindful of the selfishness of my thoughts in the garden--I resolved to add to my duties. I therefore brought the soup, the lentils, the omelette, the oranges, poured out the wine, and urged the young man cordially to eat. When I did so he looked up at me. His eyes were extraordinarily expressive. It was as if I heard them say to me, 'Why, I like you!' and as if, just for a moment, his grief were lessened.

"In the empty parlour, long, clean, bare, with a crucifix on the wall and the name 'Saint Bernard' above the door, it was very quiet, very shady. The outer blinds of green wood were drawn over the window-s.p.a.ces, shutting out the gold of the garden. But its murmuring tranquillity seemed to filter in, as if the flowers, the insects, the birds were aware of our presence and were trying to say to us, 'Are you happy as we are? Be happy as we are.'

"The stranger looked at the shady room, the open windows. He sighed.

"'How quiet it is here!' he said, almost as if to himself. 'How quiet it is!'

"'Yes,' I answered. 'Summer is beginning. For months now scarcely anyone will come to us here.'

"'Us?' he said, glancing at me with a sudden smile.

"'I meant to us who are monks, who live always here.'

"'May I--is it indiscreet to ask if you have been here long?'

"I told him.

"'More than nineteen years!' he said.

"'Yes.'

"'And always in this silence?'

"He sat as if listening, resting his head on his hand.

"'How extraordinary!' he said at last. 'How wonderful! Is it happiness?'

"I did not answer. The question seemed to me to be addressed to himself, not to me. I could leave him to seek for the answer. After a moment he went on eating and drinking in silence. When he had finished I asked him whether he would take coffee. He said he would, and I made him pa.s.s into the St. Joseph _salle_. There I brought him coffee and--and that liqueur. I told him that it was my invention. He seemed to be interested. At any rate, he took a gla.s.s and praised it strongly. I was pleased. I think I showed it. From that moment I felt as if we were almost friends. Never before had I experienced such a feeling for anyone who had come to the monastery, or for any monk or novice in the monastery. Although I had been vexed, irritated, at the approach of a stranger I now felt regret at the idea of his going away. Presently the time came to show him round the garden. We went out of the shadowy parlour into the sunshine. No one was in the garden. Only the bees were humming, the birds were pa.s.sing, the cats were basking on the broad path that stretched from the arcade along the front of the _hotellerie_.

As we came out a bell chimed, breaking for an instant the silence, and making it seem the sweeter when it returned. We strolled for a little while. We did not talk much. The stranger's eyes, I noticed, were everywhere, taking in every detail of the scene around us. Presently we came to the vineyard, to the left of which was the road that led to the cemetery, pa.s.sed up the road and arrived at the cemetery gate.

"'Here I must leave you,' I said.

"'Why?' he asked quickly.

"'There is another Father who will show you the chapel. I shall wait for you here.'

"I sat down and waited. When the stranger returned it seemed to me that his face was calmer, that there was a quieter expression in his eyes.

When we were once more before the _hotellerie_ I said:

"'You have seen all my small domain now.'

"He glanced at the house.

"'But there seems to be a number of rooms,' he said.

"'Only the bedrooms.'

"'Bedrooms? Do people stay the night here?'

"'Sometimes. If they please they can stay for longer than a night.'

"'How much longer?'

"'For any time they please, if they conform to one or two simple rules and pay a small fixed sum to the monastery.'

"'Do you mean that you could take anyone in for the summer?' he said abruptly.

"'Why not? The consent of the Reverend Pere has to be obtained. That is all.'

"'I should like to see the bedrooms.'

"I took him in and showed him one.

"'All the others are the same,' I said.

"He glanced round at the white walls, the rough bed, the crucifix above it, the iron basin, the paved floor, then went to the window and looked out.

"'Well,' he said, drawing back into the room, 'I will go now to see the Pere Abbe, if it is permitted.'

"On the garden path I bade him good-bye. He shook my hand. There was an odd smile in his face. Half-an-hour later I saw him coming again through the arcade.

"'Father,' he said, 'I am not going away. I have asked the Pere Abbe's permission to stay here. He has given it to me. To-morrow such luggage as I need will be sent over from Tunis. Are you--are you very vexed to have a stranger to trouble your peace?'

"His intensely observant eyes were fixed upon me while he spoke. I answered:

"'I do not think you will trouble my peace.'

"And my thought was:

"'I will help you to find the peace which you have lost.'

"Was it a presumptuous thought, Domini? Was it insolent? At the time it seemed to me absolutely sincere, one of the best thoughts I had ever had--a thought put into my heart by G.o.d. I didn't know then--I didn't know."

He stopped speaking, and stood for a time quite still, looking down at the sand, which was silver white under the moon. At last he lifted his head and said, speaking slowly:

"It was the coming of this man that put the spark to that torch. It was he who woke up in me the half of myself which, unsuspected by me, had been slumbering through all my life, slumbering and gathering strength in slumber--as the body does--gathering a strength that was tremendous, that was to overmaster the whole of me, that was to make of me one mad impulse. He woke up in me the body and the body was to take possession of the soul. I wonder--can I make you feel why this man was able to affect me thus? Can I make you know this man?