although as a matter of fact he had a special purpose of his own
in visiting the place-a purpose so utterly at variance with the
professed tenets of his present life and character that the mere
thought of it secretly irritated him, even while he was determined
to accomplish it. As yet he had only made acquaintance with two of
the monks, courteous, good-humored personages, who had received
him on his arrival with the customary hospitality which it was the
rule of the monastery to afford to all belated wayfarers
journeying across the perilous Pass of Dariel. They had asked him
no questions as to his name or nation, they had simply seen in him
a stranger overtaken by the storm and in need of shelter, and had
entertained him accordingly. They had conducted him to the
refectory, where a well-piled log fire was cheerfully blazing, and
there had set before him an excellent supper, flavored with
equally excellent wine. He had, however, scarcely begun to
converse with them when the vesper-bell had rung, and, obedient to
its summons, they had hurried away, leaving him to enjoy his
repast in solitude. When he had finished it, he had sat for a
while dreamily listening to the solemn strains of the organ, which
penetrated to every part of the building, and then moved by a
vague curiosity to see how many men there were dwelling thus
together in this lonely retreat, perched like an eagle's nest
among the frozen heights of Caucasus, he had managed to find his
way, guided by the sound of the music, through various long
corridors and narrow twisting passages, into the cavernous grot
where he now stood, feeling infinitely bored and listlessly
dissatisfied. His primary object in entering the chapel had been
to get a good full view of the monks, and of their faces
especially,--but at present this was impossible, as from the
position he was obliged to occupy behind them their backs alone