convent for a term, as a penitent from La Trappe. Every day they
reported some fresh virtuous trait, some new act of austerity of this
holy personage. Devotees, with a thirst for the marvellous, came to see
him, and brought him a thousand little presents, which he obstinately
refused. At times he would hide so well that people said he had returned
to his monastery; but just as we were congratulating ourselves on
getting rid of him, we would hear that he had recently inflicted some
terrible mortifications on himself in sackcloth and ashes; or else that
he had gone barefooted on a pilgrimage into some of the wildest and most
desolate parts of Varenne. People went so far as to say that he could
work miracles. If the prior had not been cured of his gout, that was
because, in a spirit of true penitence, he did not wish to be cured.

This state of uncertainty lasted almost two months.




XXI

These days, passed in Edmee's presence, were for me days of delight, yet
of suffering. To see her at all hours, without fear of being indiscreet,
since she herself would summon me to her side, to read to her, talk with
her on all subjects, share the loving attentions she bestowed on her
father, enter into half her life exactly as if we had been brother
and sister--this was great happiness, no doubt, but it was a dangerous
happiness, and again the volcano kindled in my breast. A few confused
words, a few troubled glances betrayed me. Edmee was by no means blind,
but she was impenetrable; her dark and searching eyes, fixed on me as
on her father, with the solicitude of an absorbing affection, would at