in asking for it, and also for having reminded a Trappist of such vanities
of the past.

The father--he was becoming fatherly indeed--went to a cupboard of the
_salle a manger_ already described, and brought out what I had left of the
bread and cheese set before me the previous evening. Having placed this
on the table, with a bottle of beer--the postulant had led me to hope
for coffee and milk, but there was evidently no escape from malt liquor
here--he withdrew to a little office close by where he was wont to perform
the daily duty of keeping the cheese accounts of the monastery. I felt sure
that when he had reckoned up a few figures he would be coming round to
tear me away from the bread and cheese, so I endeavoured to hasten the
consumption with as much speed as I could decently put on. I was right in
my conjecture. I had not been seated five minutes, when he came back and
wandered half round the table.

'_J'aurai fini dans un petit moment, mon pere,_' said I, as I cut off
another piece of cheese. By-the-bye, nobody should call a Trappist
'_monsieur_,' because the monk has ceased to have even a name of his
own other than his religious one, and has become a father or brother to
everybody. He returned to his accounts; but he had not gone very deeply
into them when he saw me standing at the door of his little den. He left
his books at once, and we walked side by side where he chose to lead me. He
was a rather tall man, with a face that was an enigma. The features were
so like those of the late Mr. Charles Bradlaugh, that if the English
Freethinker had disappeared mysteriously I might have strongly suspected
him of having turned Trappist.

This father volunteered no information whatever; it had all to be drawn out
of him. He spoke in a low voice, and, as it appeared to me, with something