'You have it, my son: much good may it do you,' responded the superior, in a voice which, somehow or other, seemed not perfectly new to me.
While O'Grady engaged in a whispered conversation with the prior, I turned my eyes towards a large-framed paper which hung above the chimney. It ran thus:—
'Rules and regulations to be observed in the monastery of the venerable and pious brothers, the Monks of the Screw.'
Conceiving it scarcely delicate in a stranger to read over the regulations of a society of which he was not a member, I was turning away, when O'Grady, seizing me by the arm, whispered, 'Remember your lesson'; then added aloud, 'Holy Father, this is the lay brother of whom I spoke.'
The prior bowed formally, and extended his hands towards me with a gesture of benediction—
'Accipe benedictionem——-'
'Supper, by the Lord Harry!' cried a jolly voice behind me, and at the same moment a general movement was made by the whole party.
The prior now didn't wait to conclude his oration, but tucking up his garments, put himself at the head of the procession which had formed, two and two, in order of march. At the same moment, two fiddles from the supper-room, after a slight prelude, struck up the anthem of the order, which was the popular melody of, 'The Night before Larry was stretched!'
Marching in measured tread, we entered the supper-room, when, once having made the circuit of the table, at a flourish of the fiddles we assumed our places, the superior seating himself at the head in a chair of state, slightly elevated above the rest. A short Latin grace, which I was unfortunate enough not to catch, being said, the work of eating began; and, certainly, whatever might have been the feats of the friars of old, when the bell summoned them to the refectory, their humble followers, the Monks of the Screw, did them no discredit. A profusion of dishes covered the table; and although the entire service was of wood, and the whole 'equipage' of the most plain and simple description, yet the cookery was admirable, and the wines perfection itself.
While the supper proceeded, scarcely a word was spoken. By the skilful exercise of signs, with which they all seemed familiar, roast ducks, lobsters, veal-pies, and jellies flew from hand to hand; the decanters also paraded up and down the table with an alacrity and despatch I had seldom seen equalled. Still, the pious brethren maintained a taciturn demeanour that would have done credit to La Trappe itself. As for me, my astonishment and curiosity increased every moment. What could they be? What could they mean? There was something too farcical about it all to suppose that any political society or any dangerous association could be concealed under such a garb; and if mere conviviality and good fellowship were meant, their unbroken silence and grave demeanour struck me as a most singular mode of promoting either.