"Et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Jesus."
There was a moment's pause, and the pure thin voice of the old Trappist sang as before the office of Compline the evening before:
"Deus in adjutorium meum intende."
And the liturgy continued its course, with its "Gloria Patri," etc., during which the monks bowed their foreheads on their books, and with its series of psalms, accented in short tones on the one side, and long on the other.
Durtal, as he knelt, allowed himself to be rocked by the psalmody, too tired to be able to pray himself.
Then, when Sext was ended, all the fathers meditated, and Durtal caught a look of pity from the prior, who turned a little towards his bench. He understood that the monk implored the Saviour for him, and perhaps asked God to show him the way in which he might conduct himself on the morrow.
Durtal rejoined M. Bruno in the court; they shook hands, and the oblate announced the presence of a new guest.
"A retreatant?"
"No; a curate from the neighbourhood of Lyons, he has come to see the abbot, who is ill."
"But I thought the abbot of Notre Dame de l'Atre was the tall monk who led the office?"