Suarez, or St.
Thomas Aquinas. Holy Writ alone impassioned him. Therein he found all
desirable knowledge, a tale of infinite love which should be sufficient
instruction for all men of good-will. He simply adopted the dicta of his
teachers, casting on them the care of inquiry, needing nought of such
rubbish to know how to love, and accusing books of stealing away the
time which should be devoted to prayer. He even succeeded in forgetting
his years of college life. He no longer knew anything, but was
simplicity itself, a child brought back to the lispings of his
catechism.

Such was the manner in which he had ascended step by step to the
priesthood. And here his recollections thronged more quickly on him,
softer, still warm with heavenly joy. Each year he had drawn nearer
to God. His vacations had been spent in holy fashion at an uncle's, in
confessions every day and communions twice a week. He would lay fasts
upon himself, hide rock-salt inside his trunk, and kneel on it with
bared knees for hours together. At recreation time he remained in
chapel, or went up to the room of one of the directors, who told him
pious and extraordinary stories. Then, as the fast of the Holy Trinity
drew nigh, he was rewarded beyond all measure, overwhelmed by
the stirring emotion which pervades all seminaries on the eve of
ordinations. This was the great festival of all, when the sky opened to
allow the elect to rise another step nearer unto God. For a fortnight
in advance he imposed a bread and water diet on himself. He closed
his window blinds so that he might not see the daylight at all, and
he prostrated himself in the gloom to implore Jesus to accept his
sacrifice. During the last four days he suffered torturing pangs,
terrible scruples, which would force him from his bed in the middle
of the night to knock at the door of some strange priest giving the
Retreat--some barefooted Carmelite, or often a converted Protestant
respecting whom some wonderful story was current. To him he would
make at great length a general confession of his whole life in a voice
choking with sobs. Absolution alone quieted him, refreshed him, as if he
had enjoyed a bath of grace.

On the morning of the great day he felt wholly white; and so vividly was
he conscious of his whiteness that he seemed to himself to shed light
around him. The seminary bell rang out in clear notes, while all the
scents of June--the perfume of blossoming stocks, of mignonette and of