I felt
sometimes as if I had been out into the world for a moment, had known
the meaning that women have for men. I wondered who the woman was. I
wondered how she had loved the young monk who was dead. He used to sit
beside me in the chapel. He had a pure and beautiful face, such a face,
I supposed, as a woman might well love. Had this woman loved him, and
had he rejected her love for the life of the monastery? I remember one
day thinking of this and wondering how it had been possible for him to
do so, and then suddenly realising the meaning of my thought and turning
hot with shame. I had put the love of woman above the love of God,
woman's service above God's service. That day I was terrified of myself.
I went back to the monastery from the cemetery, quickly, asked to see
the Reverend Pere, and begged him to remove me from the cemetery, to
give me some other work. He did not ask my reason for wishing to change,
but three days afterwards he sent for me, and told me that I was to
be placed in charge of the _hotellerie_ of the monastery, and that my
duties there were to begin upon the morrow.
"Domini, I wonder if I can make you realise what that change meant to
a man who had lived as I had for so many years.
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