the garden of allah-第93部分

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blue　of　the　lakes　on　which　I　should　never　sail。　MyI　was　physically
stirred。　And　again　and　again　I　felt　that　hand　laid　closely　upon　mine；
as　if　to　draw　me　away　into　something　I　had　never　known；　could　never
know。　Do　not　think　that　I　did　not　strive　against　these　first　stirrings
of　the　nature　that　had　slept　so　long！　For　days　I　refused　to　let　myself
look　out　from　the　cemetery。　I　kept　my　eyes　upon　the　ground；　upon　the
plain　crosses　that　marked　the　graves。　I　played　with　the　red…eyed
doves。　I　worked。　But　my　eyes　at　last　rebelled。　I　said　to　myself；　'It
is　not　forbidden　to　look。'　And　again　the　sails；　the　seas；　the　towers；
the　mountains；　were　as　voices　whispering　to　me；　'Why　will　you　never
know　us；　draw　near　to　us？　Why　will　you　never　understand　our　meaning？
Why　will　you　be　ignorant　for　ever　of　all　that　has　been　created　for　man
to　know？'　Then　the　pain　within　me　became　almost　unbearable。　At　night　I
could　not　sleep。　In　the　chapel　it　was　difficult　to　pray。　I　looked　at
the　monks　around　me；　to　most　of　whom　I　had　never　addressed　a　word；　and
I　thought；　'Do　they；　too；　hold　such　longings　within　them？　Are　they；
too；　shaken　with　a　desire　of　knowledge？'　It　seemed　to　me　that；　instead
of　a　place　of　peace；　the　monastery　was；　must　be；　a　place　of　tumult；　of
the　silent　tumult　that　has　its　home　in　the　souls　of　men。　But　then　I
remembered　for　how　long　I　had　been　at　peace。　Perhaps　all　the　silent
men　by　whom　I　was　surrounded　were　still　at　peace；　as　I　had　been；　as　I
might　be　again。

〃A　young　monk　died　in　the　monastery　and　was　buried　in　the　cemetery。　I
made　his　grave　against　the　outer　wall；　beneath　a　cypress　tree。　Some
days　afterwards；　when　I　was　sitting　on　the　bench　by　the　house　of　the
doves；　I　heard　a　sound；　which　came　from　beyond　the　wall。　It　was　like
sobbing。　I　listened；　and　heard　it　more　distinctly；　and　knew　that　it
was　someone　crying　and　sobbing　desperately；　and　near　at　hand。　But　now
it　seemed　to　me　to　come　from　the　wall　itself。　I　got　up　and　listened。
Someone　was　crying　bitterly　behind；　or　above；　the　wall；　just　where　the
young　monk　had　been　buried。　Who　could　it　be？　I　stood　listening；
wondering；　hesitating　what　to　do。　There　was　something　in　this　sound　of
lamentation　that　moved　one　to　the　depths。　For　years　I　had　not　looked
on　a　woman；　or　heard　a　woman's　voicebut　I　knew　that　this　was　a　woman
mourning。　Why　was　she　there？　What　could　she　want？　I　glanced　up。　All
round　the　cemetery；　as　I　have　said；　grew　cypress　trees。　As　I　glanced
up　I　saw　one　shake　just　above　where　the　new　grave　was；　and　a　woman's
voice　said；　'I　cannot　see　it；　I　cannot　see　it！'

〃I　do　not　know　why；　but　I　felt　that　someone　was　there　who　wished　to
see　the　young　monk's　grave。　For　a　moment　I　stood　there。　Then　I　went　to
the　house　where　I　kept　my　tools　for　my　work　in　the　cemetery；　and　got　a
shears　which　I　used　for　lopping　the　cypress　trees。　I　took　a　ladder
quickly；　set　it　against　the　wall；　mounted　it；　and　from　the　cypress　I
had　seen　moving　I　lopped　some　of　the　boughs。　The　sobbing　ceased。　As
the　boughs　fell　down　from　the　tree　I　saw　a　woman's　face；　tear…stained；
staring　at　me。　It　seemed　to　me　a　lovely　face。

〃'Which　is　his　grave？'　she　said。　I　pointed　to　the　grave　of　the　young
monk；　which　could　now　be　seen　through　the　gap　I　had　made；　descended
the　ladder；　and　went　away　to　the　farthest　corner　of　the　cemetery。　And
I　did　not　look　again　in　the　direction　of　the　woman's　face。

〃Who　she　was　I　do　not　know。　When　she　went　away　I　did　not　see。　She
loved　the　monk　who　had　died；　and　knowing　that　women　cannot　enter　the
precincts　of　the　monastery；　she　had　come　to　the　outside　wall　to　cast；
if　she　might；　a　despairing　glance　at　his　grave。

〃Domini；　I　wonderI　wonder　if　you　can　understand　how　that　incident
affected　me。　To　an　ordinary　man　it　would　seem　nothing；　I　suppose。　But
to　a　Trappist　monk　it　seemed　tremendous。　I　had　seen　a　woman。　I　had
done　something　for　a　woman。　I　thought　of　her；　of　what　I　had　done　for
her；　perpetually。　The　gap　in　the　cypress　tree　reminded　me　of　her　every
time　I　looked　towards　it。　When　I　was　in　the　cemetery　I　could　hardly
turn　my　eyes　from　it。　But　the　woman　never　came　again。　I　said　nothing
to　the　Reverend　Pere　of　what　I　had　done。　I　ought　to　have　spoken；　but　I
did　not。　I　kept　it　back　when　I　confessed。　From　that　moment　I　had　a
secret；　and　it　was　a　secret　connected　with　a　woman。

〃Does　it　seem　strange　to　you　that　this　secret　seemed　to　me　to　set　me
apart　from　all　the　other　monksnearer　the　world？　It　was　so。　I　felt
sometimes　as　if　I　had　been　out　into　the　world　for　a　moment；　had　known
the　meaning　that　women　have　for　men。　I　wondered　who　the　woman　was。　I
wondered　how　she　had　loved　the　young　monk　who　was　dead。　He　used　to　sit
beside　me　in　the　chapel。　He　had　a　pure　and　beautiful　face；　such　a
face；　I　supposed；　as　a　woman　might　well　love。　Had　this　woman　loved
him；　and　had　he　rejected　her　love　for　the　life　of　the　monastery？　I
remember　one　day　thinking　of　this　and　wondering　how　it　had　been
possible　for　him　to　do　so；　and　then　suddenly　realising　the　meaning　of
my　thought　and　turning　hot　with　shame。　I　had　put　the　love　of　woman
above　the　love　of　God；　woman's　service　above　God's　service。　That　day　I
was　terrified　of　myself。　I　went　back　to　the　monastery　from　the
cemetery；　quickly；　asked　to　see　the　Reverend　Pere；　and　begged　him　to
remove　me　from　the　cemetery；　to　give　me　some　other　work。　He　did　not
ask　my　reason　for　wishing　to　change；　but　three　days　afterwards　he　sent
for　me；　and　told　me　that　I　was　to　be　placed　in　charge　of　the
/hotellerie/　of　the　monastery；　and　that　my　duties　there　were　to　begin
upon　the　morrow。

〃Domini；　I　wonder　if　I　can　make　you　realise　what　that　change　meant　to
a　man　who　had　lived　as　I　had　for　so　many　years。　The　/hotellerie/　of
El…Largani　is　a　long；　low；　one…storied　building　standing　in　a　garden
full　of　palms　and　geraniums。　It　contains　a　kitchen；　a　number　of　little
rooms　like　cells　for　visitors；　and　two　large　parlours　in　which　guests
are　entertained　at　meals。　In　one　they　sit　to　eat　the　fruit；　eggs；　and
vegetables　provided　by　the　monastery；　with　wine。　If　after　the　meal
they　wish　to　take　coffee　they　pass　into　the　second　parlour。　Visitors
who　stay　in　the　monastery　are　free　to　do　much　as　they　please；　but　they
must　conform　to　certain　rules。　They　rise　at　a　certain　hour；　feed　at
fixed　times；　and　are　obliged　to　go　to　their　bedrooms　at　half…past
seven　in　the　evening　in　winter；　and　at　eight　in　summer。　The　monk　in
charge　of　the　/hotellerie/　has　to　see　to　their　comfort。　He　looks　after
the　kitchen；　is　always　in　the　parlour　at　some　moment　or　another　during
meals。　He　visits　the　bedrooms　and　takes　care　that　the　one　servant
keeps　everything　spotlessly　clean。　He　shows　people　round　the　garden。
His　duties；　you　see；　are　light　and　social。　He　cannot　go　into　the
world；　but　he　can　mix　with　the　world　that　comes　to　him。　It　is　his
task；　if　not　his　pleasure；　to　be　cheerful；　talkative；　sympathetic；　a
good　host；　with　a　genial　welcome　for　all　who　come　to　La　Trappe。　After
my　years　of　labour；　solitude；　silence；　and　prayer；　I　was　abruptly　put
into　this　new　life。

〃Domini；　to　me　it　was　like　rushing　out　into　the　world。　I　was　almost
dazed　by　the　change。　At　first　I　was　nervous；　timid；　awkward；　and；
especially；　tongue…tied。　The　habit　of　silence　had　taken　such　a　hold
upon　me　that　I　could　not　throw　it　off。　I　dreaded　the　coming　of
visitors。　I　did　not　know　how　to　receive　them；　what　to　say　to　them。
Fortunately；　as　I　thought；　the　tourist　season　was　over；　the　summer　was
approaching。　Very　few　people　came；　and　those　only　to　eat　a　meal。　I
tried　to　be　polite　and　pleasant　to　them；　and　gradually　I　began　to　fall
into　the　way　of　talking　without　the　difficulty　I　had　experienced　at
first。　In　the　beginning　I　could　not　open　my　lips　without　feeling　as　if
I　were　almost　committing　a　crime。　But　presently　I　was　more　natural；
less　taciturn。　I　even；　now　and　then；　took　some　pleasure　in　speaking　to
a　pleasant　visitor。　I　grew　to　love　the　garden　with　its　flowers；　its
orange　trees；　its　groves　of　eucalyptus；　its　vineyard　which　sloped
towards　the　cemetery。　Often　I　wandered　in　it　alone；　or　sat　under　the
arcade　that　divided　it　from　the　large　entrance　court　of　the　monastery；
meditating；　listening　to　the　bees　humming；　and　watching　the　cats
basking　in　the　sunshine。

〃Sometimes；　when　I　was　there；　I　thought　of　the　woman's　face　above　the
cemetery　wall。　Sometimes　I　seemed　to　feel　the　hand　tugging　at　mine。
But　I　was　more　at　peace　than　I　had　been　in　the　cemetery。　For　from　the
garden　I　could　not　see　the　distant　world；　and　of　the　chance　visitors
none　had　as　yet　set　a　match　to　the　torch　that；　unknown　to　me；　was
readyat　the　coming　of　the　smallest　sparkto　burst　into　a　flame。

〃One　day；　it　was　in　the　morning　towards　half…past　ten；　when　I　was
sitting　reading　my　Greek　Testament　on　a　bench　just　inside　the　doorway
of　the　/hotellerie/；　I　heard　the　great　door　of　the　monastery　being
opened；　and　then　the　rolling　of　carriage　wheels　in　the　courtyard。　Some
visitor　had　arrived　from　Tunis；　perhaps　some　visitorsthree　or　four。
It　was　a　radiant　morning　of　late　May。　The　garden　was　brilliant　with
flowers；　golden　with　sunshine；　tender　with　shade；　and　quietquiet　and
peaceful；　Domini！　There　was　a　wonderful　peace　in　the　garden　that　day；
a　peace　that　seemed　full　of　safety；　of　enduring　cheerfulness。　The
flowers　looked　as　if　they　had　hearts　to　understand　it；　and　love　it；
the　roses　along　the　yellow　wall　of　the　house　that　clambered　to　the
brown　red　tiles；　the　geraniums　that　grew　in　masses　under　the　shining
leaves　of　the　orange　trees；　theI　felt　as　if　that　day　I　were　in　the
Garden　of　Eden；　and　I　remember　that　when　I　heard　the　carriage　wheels　I
had　a　moment　of　selfish　sadness。　I　thought：　'Why　does　anyone　come　to
disturb　my　blessed　peace；　my　blessed　solitude？'　Then　I　realised　the
egoism　of　my　thought　and　that　I　was　there　with　my　duty。　I　got　up；　went
into　the　kitchen　and　said　to　Francois；　the　servant；　that　someone　had
come　and　no　doubt　would　stay　to　/dejeuner/。　And；　as　I　spoke；　already　I
was　thinking　of　the　moment　when　I　should　hear　the　roll　of　wheels　once
more；　the　clang　of　the　shutting　gate；　and　know　that　the　intruders　upon
the　peace　of　the　Trappists　had　gone　back　to　the　world；　and　that　I
could　once　more　be　alone　in　the　little　Eden　I　loved。

〃Strangely；　Domini；　strangely；　that　day；