her.

"Yes, Madame, thanks."

She poured out the liqueur and handed it to him. He set it down by his
coffee-cup.

"The fact is, Madame--but you know nothing about this liqueur?"

"No, nothing. What is it?"

Her curiosity was roused by his hesitation, his words, but still more by
a certain gravity which had come into his face.

"Well, this liqueur comes from the Trappist monastery of El-Largani."

"The monks' liqueur!" she exclaimed.

And instantly she thought of Mogar.

"You do know then?"

"Ouardi told me we had with us a liqueur made by some monks."

"This is it, and very excellent it is. I have tasted it in Tunis."

"But then why did you hesitate to take it here?"

He lifted his glass up to the lamp. The light shone on its contents,
showing that the liquid was pale green.

"Madame," he said, "the Trappists of El-Largani have a fine property.
They grow every sort of things, but their vineyards are specially
famous, and their wines bring in a splendid revenue. This is their only
liqueur, this Louarine. It, too, has brought in a lot of money to the
community, but when what they have in stock at the monastery now is
exhausted they will never make another franc by Louarine."

"But why not?"

"The secret of its manufacture belonged to one monk only. At his death
he was to confide it to another whom he had chosen."

"And he died suddenly without--"

"Madame, he didn't die."

The gravity had returned to the priest's face and deepened there,
transforming it. He put the glass down without touching it with his
lips.

"Then--I don't understand."

"He disappeared from the monastery."

"Do you mean he left it--a Trappist?"

"Yes."

"After taking the final vows?"

"Oh, he had been a monk at El-Largani for over twenty years."

"How horrible!" Domini said. She looked at the pale-green liquid. "How
horrible!" she repeated.

"Yes. The monks would have kept the matter a secret, but a servant
of the _hotellerie_--who had taken no vow of eternal silence--spoke,
and--well, I know it here in the 'belly of the desert.'"

"Horrible!"

She said the word again, and as if she felt its meaning more acutely
each time she spoke it.

"After twenty years to go!" she added after a moment. "And was there
no reason, no--no excuse--no, I don't mean excuse! But had nothing
exceptional happened?"

"What exceptional thing can happen in a Trappist monastery?" said the
priest. "One day is exactly like another there,