There was more reason for my prayers, and I prayed more
passionately. I lived in prayer like a sea-plant in the depths of the
ocean. Prayer was about me like a fluid. But Dom Andre Herceline
died, and a new Abbe was appointed, he who, I suppose, rules now at
El-Largani. He was a good man, but, I think, apt to misunderstand men.
The Abbe of a Trappist monastery has complete power over his community.
He can order what he will. Soon after he came to El-Largani--for some
reason that I cannot divine--he--removed the Pere Michel, who had been
for years in charge of the cemetery, from his duties there, and informed
me that I was to undertake them. I obeyed, of course, without a word.

"The cemetery of El-Largani is on a low hill, the highest part of the
monastery grounds. It is surrounded by a white wall and by a hedge of
cypress trees. The road to it is an avenue of cypresses, among which are
interspersed niches containing carvings of the Fourteen Stations of
the Cross. At the entrance to this avenue, on the left, there is a high
yellow pedestal, surmounted by a black cross, on which hangs a silver
Christ. Underneath is written:

"FACTUS OBEDIENS

"USQUE

"AD MORTEM

"CRUCIS.

"I remember, on the first day when I became the guardian of the
cemetery, stopping on my way to it before the Christ and praying. My
prayer--my prayer was, Domini, that I might die, as I had lived, in
innocence. I prayed for that, but with a sort of--yes, now I think
so--insolent certainty that my prayer would of course be granted. Then I
went on to the cemetery.

"My work there was easy. I had only to tend the land about the graves,
and sweep out the little chapel where was buried the founder of La
Trappe of El-Largani. This done I could wander about the cemetery, or
sit on a bench in the sun. The Pere Michel, who was my predecessor, had
some doves, and had left them behind in a little house by my bench. I
took care of and fed them. They were tame, and used to flutter to my
shoulders and perch on my hands. To birds and animals I was always a
friend. At El-Largani there are all sorts of beasts, and, at one time
or another, it had been my duty to look after most of them. I loved all
living things. Sitting in the cemetery I could see a great stretch of
country, the blue of the lakes of Tunis with the white villages at their
edge, the boats gliding upon them towards the white city, the
distant mountains. Having little to do, I sat day after day f