The abbot's dinner, he saw, was much simpler: a bowl of
milk, a slice of bread, and a couple of figs. After the kindly
greeting with which he was received, there was no conversation, for
a monk read aloud during the repast. Basil surveyed with interest
the assembly before him. Most of the faces glowed with health, and
on all was manifest a simple contentment such as he had hitherto
seen only in the eyes of children. Representatives were here of
every social rank, but the majority belonged to honourable families:
high intelligence marked many countenances, but not one showed the
shadow of anxious or weary thought.
These are men, said Basil to himself, who either have never known
the burden of life, or have utterly cast it off; they live without a
care, without a passion. And then there suddenly flashed upon his
mind what seemed an all-sufficient explanation of this calm, this
happiness. Here entered no woman. Woman's existence was forgotten,
alike by young and old; or, if not forgotten, had lost all its
earthly taint, as in the holy affection (of which Marcus had spoken
to him) cherished by the abbot for his pious sister Scholastica.
Pages:
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484