"But in the books of the monks, the Latin ones and those others, with the crinkled runic flourishes, lie hidden all holy and worldly wisdom.
"And when thou can'st read them, all will be clear to thee in heaven and upon earth."
And so I took leave of my dear father, gathered my sheep together, and drove them to the monastery.
"Art thou gone mad, Irenæus?" asked the porter, as he opened the door for me and my bleating charge, "that thou drivest home before shearing time. They will scourge thee again."
"I was mad," I replied, "but now I will become a scholar. Now another may scare the wolves. I will learn Greek."
And thus I also said to the good Abbot Aelfrik, before whom I was at once led for chastisement.
But he said--
"Lay the scourge aside. Perchance the boy, who has always been a heathenish worldly Saul, has become suddenly a Paul, through the grace of the holy Columban. He shall have his wish. If he holds to it--then it is a work of the saints. If his zeal flags, then it is a wile of Satan, and he shall go out again to his sheep."
But I kept silence, and said nothing about the reason for which I wished to learn.
And my zeal did not flag, and I learned Latin and Greek, and read all the books that they had in the monastery, the Christian ones of the church fathers, which they call theology, and many heathen ones, of the old world wisdom, which they call philosophy.