“Let us visit them,” said the Bishop, and they began to ascend the stairs.
“I may not agree with your theory of the religious life, Father, but when I see your people giving up the world and its comforts, its joys and possessions, its ties of blood and affection——”
They had reached the topmost story, and the Father had paused to recover breath. “This cell to the right,” said he, “is occupied by a lay brother who was tempted by the Evil One to a grievous act of disobedience, and the wrath of God has fallen on him. But Satan has overreached himself for once, and by that very act grace has triumphed. Not a member of our community rejoices more in the blessed sacrament, and when I place the body of our Lord——”
“May we go in to him?”
“Certainly; he is dying of lung disease, but you shall see with what patience he possesses his soul.”
Brother Paul was sitting before a small fire in an arm-chair padded with pillows, holding in his dried-up hands a heavy crucifix which was suspended from his heck.
“How lightsome and cosy we are up here!” said the Bishop. “A long way up, certainly, but no doubt you get everything you require.”
“Everything,” said Paul.
“I dare say the brothers are very good to you—they usually are so to the weak and ailing in a monastery.”
“Too good, my lord.”