Sometimes, however, in a rebellious mood he managed to check himself, to
stop the ill-regulated clockwork of his prayers, and then he would try
to examine himself, to get above himself, and to see in a comprehensive
glance the puzzling perspective of his nature.

And facing these chambers of the soul, dim with mist, he was struck by a
strange association of the Revelations of Saint Theresa and a tale by
Edgar Poe.

Those chambers of the inner man were empty and cold, and like the halls
of the House of Usher, surrounded by a moat whence the fog rose, forcing
its way in at last and cracking the worn shell of wall. Alone and
uneasy, he prowled about the ruined cells, with closed doors that
refused ever to open again; thus his walks about his own mind were very
limited, and the panorama he could see was strangely narrowed, shrunk
close and near to him, almost nothing. And he knew full well that the
ruins surrounding the central cell, the Master's Room, were bolted and
fastened with rivets that could not be unscrewed, and triple
bars--inaccessible. So he restricted himself to wandering in the halls
and passages.

At Notre Dame de l'Atre he had ventured further; he had gone into the
enclosure round about the abode of Christ; he had seen in the distance
the frontiers of Mysticism, and, too weak to go on his road, he had
fallen; and now this was to be lamented, for, as Saint Theresa truly
remarks, "in the spiritual life, if we do not go forward, we go back."
He had, in fact, retraced his steps, and lay half paralyzed, no longer
even in the vestibule of his mansion, but in the outer court.