Was not the very absurdity of it a proof that this notion was one of the presentiments that we sometimes feel without understanding it? Was it not, again, for lack of a command plainly given by some inward voice, a warning, a direct and secret hint, that he should be on his guard not to think of this visit to a cloister as a mere pleasure trip?
"But this is monstrous!" Durtal exclaimed at last. "When I went to La Trappe for my great purification, I was not harassed by apprehensions of this kind; when I have gone there again several times since, it never occurred to me that I should really bury myself in a monastery; and now that it is a matter merely of a short visit to a Benedictine monastery, I am trembling and recalcitrant.
"Such a commotion is quite childish! And yet no, not so very childish," he suddenly told himself. "When I have been to Notre-Dame de l'Atre I have been sure that I should not remain, since I knew that I could not endure more than a month of their austere Rule; so there was nothing to fear; whereas in a Benedictine Abbey, where the Rule is lighter, I am not certain that I could not stay.
"In that case—well, well, so much the better! for after all sooner or later I must decide, I must make up my mind as to what I really mean; have some definite notion of the value of my promissory notes, of the greater or less strength of my energy, my fitness, my limitations.
"A few months ago I longed for the monastic life, that is
beyond doubt—and now I am wavering. I have abortive gushes of feeling, ineffectual projects, inclinations which fail, wishes which come short—I will and I will not. Still it is needful to understand oneself; but of what use is it for me to try to sound the well of my own soul? If I go down into it, I find everything dark and cold and empty.
"I am beginning to think that by dint of staring into that darkness I am becoming like a child that fixes its eyes on the blackness of night; I end by creating phantoms and inventing terrors. That is certainly the case as regards this excursion to Solesmes, for there is nothing, absolutely nothing to justify my alarms.
"How silly this all is; how much simpler it would be to allow myself to live, and, above all, to be led!"
"I have hit it," he went on after a moment's reflection. "The cause of this turmoil is evident. It is my lack of self-abandonment, my want of confidence in God—yes, and my little love, my dryness of spirit, which have brought me to this state.
"In the lapse of time this disorder has brought on the malady from which I am suffering, an utter anæmia of the soul, aggravated by the patient's terrors, since he, unaware of the nature of the complaint, exaggerates its importance.