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his views。 On his death…bed he told my mother that he was sure there
was no other life； that he was going to the dust。 That made the agony
of his farewell。 The certainty on his part that he and my mother were
parting for ever。 I was a little boy at the time； but I remember that；
when he was dead； my mother said to me； 'Boris； pray for your father
every day。 He is still alive。' She said nothing more； but I ran
upstairs crying； fell upon my knees and prayedtrying to think where
my father was and what he could be looking like。 And in that prayer
for my father； which was also an act of obedience to my mother； I
think I took the first step towards the monastic life。 For I remember
that then； for the first time； I was conscious of a great sense of
responsibility。 My mother's command made me say to myself； 'Then
perhaps my prayer can do something in heaven。 Perhaps a prayer from me
can make God wish to do something He had not wished to do before。'
That was a tremendous thought！ It excited me terribly。 I remember my
cheeks burned as I prayed； and that I was hot all over as if I had
been running in the sun。 From that day my mother and I seemed to be
much nearer together than we had ever been before。 I had a twin
brother to whom I was devoted； and who was devoted to me。 But he took
after my father。 Religious things； ceremonies； church music；
processionseven the outside attractions of the Catholic Church；
which please and stimulate emotional people who have little faith
never meant much to him。 All his attention was firmly fixed upon the
life of the present。 He was good to my mother and loved her devotedly；
as he loved me； but he never pretended to be what he was not。 And he
was never a Catholic。 He was never anything。
〃My father had originally come to Africa for his health； which needed
a warm climate。 He had some money and bought large tracts of land
suitable for vineyards。 Indeed； he sunk nearly his whole fortune in
land。 I told you； Domini； that the vines were devoured by the
phylloxera。 Most of the money was lost。 When my father died we were
left very poor。 We lived quietly in a little villageI told you its
name； I told you that part of my life； all I dared tell； Dominibut
nowwhy did I enter the monastery？ I was very young when I became a
novice； just seventeen。 You are thinking； Domini； I know； that I was
too young to know what I was doing； that I had no vocation； that I was
unfitted for the monastic life。 It seems so。 The whole world would
think so。 And yethow am I to tell you？ Even now I feel that then I
had the vocation； that I was fitted to enter the monastery； that I
ought to have made a faithful and devoted monk。 My mother wished the
life for me； but it was not only that。 I wished it for myself then。
With my whole heart I wished it。 I knew nothing of the world。 My youth
had been one of absolute purity。 And I did not feel longings after the
unknown。 My mother's influence upon me was strong； but she did not
force me into anything。 Perhaps my love for her led me more than I
knew； brought me to the monastery door。 The passion of her life； the
human passion； had been my father。 After he was dead the passion of
her life was prayer for him。 My love for her made me share that
passion； and the sharing of that passion eventually led me to become a
monk。 I became as a child； a devotee of prayer。 Oh！ DominithinkI
loved prayerI loved it〃
His voice broke。 When he stopped speaking Domini was again conscious
of the music in the city。 She remembered that earlier in the night she
had thought of it as the music of a great festival。
〃I resolved to enter the life of prayer； the most perfect life of
prayer。 I resolved to become a 'religious。' It seemed to me that by so
doing I should be proving in the finest way my love for my mother。 I
should be； in the strongest way； helping her。 Her life was prayer for
my dead father and love for her children。 By devoting myself to the
life of prayer I should show to her that I was as she was； as she had
made me； true son of her womb。 Can you understand？ I had a passion for
my mother； DominiI had a passion。 My brother tried to dissuade me
from the monastic life。 He himself was going into business in Tunis。
He wanted me to join him。 But I was firm。 I felt driven towards the
cloister then as other men often feel driven towards the vicious life。
The inclination was irresistible。 I yielded to it。 I had to bid good…
bye to my mother。 I told youshe was the passion of my life。 And yet
I hardly felt sad at parting from her。 Perhaps that will show you how
I was then。 It seemed to me that we should be even closer together
when I wore the monk's habit。 I was in haste to put it on。 I went to
the monastery of El…Largani and entered it as a novice of the
Trappistine order。 I thought in the great silence of the Trappists
there would be more room for prayer。 When I left my home and went to
El…Largani I took with me one treasure only。 Domini； it was the little
wooden crucifix you pinned upon the tent at Arba。 My mother gave it to
me； and I was allowed to keep it。 Everything else in the way of
earthly possessions I； of course； had to give up。
〃You have never seen El…Largani； my home for nineteen years； my prison
for one。 It is lonely； but not in the least desolate。 It stands on a
high upland； and； from a distance； looks upon the sea。 Far off there
are mountains。 The land was a desert。 The monks have turned it； if not
into an Eden； at least into a rich garden。 There are vineyards；
cornfields； orchards； almost every fruit…tree flourishes there。 The
springs of sweet waters are abundant。 At a short way from the
monastery is a large village for the Spanish workmen whom the monks
supervise in the labours of the fields。 For the Trappist life is not
only a life of prayer； but a life of diligent labour。 When I became a
novice I had not realised that。 I had imagined myself continually upon
my knees。 I found instead that I was perpetually in the fields； in
sun； and wind； and rainthat was in the winter timeworking like the
labourers； and that often when we went into the long； plain chapel to
pray I was so tiredbeing only a boythat my eyes closed as I stood
in my stall； and I could scarcely hear the words of Mass or
Benediction。 But I had expected to be happy at El…Largani； and I was
happy。 Labour is good for the body and better for the soul。 And the
silence was not hard to bear。 The Trappists have a book of gestures；
and are often allowed to converse by signs。 We novices were generally
in little bands； and often； as we walked in the garden of the
monastery； we talked together gaily with our hands。 Then the silence
is not perpetual。 In the fields we often had to give directions to the
labourers。 In the school； where we studied Theology； Latin； Greek；
there was heard the voice of the teacher。 It is true that I have seen
men in the monastery day by day for twenty years with whom I have
never exchanged a word； but I have had permission to speak with monks。
The head of the monastery； the Reverend Pere； has the power to loose
the bonds of silence when he chooses； and to allow monks to walk and
speak with each other beyond the white walls