to be neglected---"

"Eh?"

"Yes; until quite recently there was hardly any deliberate use of
them at all. Well, now we know that they effect more than any
persuasion . . . or . . . or . . . diet. And of course enclosed
Religious naturally become experts in interior self-command, and
therefore can apply these things better than anyone else."

He waved his hands vaguely and explanatorily.

"It's impossible to put it into words," he said. "The very
essence of it is that it can't be."

Monsignor sighed and looked drearily out of the window.

* * * * *

As the hours of the day had gone by it had been this dreariness
that had deepened on him, after the violent emotions of the
morning. It was as if he already saw himself beaten down and
crushed by those forces he had begun to recognize. And even this
reminder that he was passing for a few days under a tyranny that
was yet more severe failed to requicken any resentment. Inwardly
the fire smouldered still red and angry; outwardly he was passive
and obedient, and scarcely wished to be otherwise.

There was nothing of interest to be seen out of the window. The
autumn evening was drawing in, and the far-off horizon of hills,
with the rim of the sea already visible beyond it, was dark and
lead-coloured under the darkening sky. He thought vaguely of Dom
Adrian, in that melancholy and ineffective mood which evening
suggests . . . he had been alive at this hour last night and
now . . . Well, he had passed to the Secret which this world
interpreted now so confidently. . . .

They halted above Dublin, and he watched, as weeks ago at Brighton,
the lighted stage swing outside the windows. He noted a couple of
white-frocked monks or friars, hooded in black, standing among the
rest. Then he watched the stage drop out of sight, and the lights
of Dublin spin eastwards and vanish. Then he turned listlessly to
the book his friend had given him, and began to read.

As he stood himself on the platform at Thurles, bag in hand (they
brought no servants to Ireland), it seemed to him that already
there was a certain sense of quietness about him. He told himself
it was probably the result of self-suggestion. But, for all that,
it seemed curiously still. Beneath he saw great buildings,
flattened under the height at which he stood--court after court,
it appeared, each lighted invisibly and as clear as day. Yet no
figures moved across them; and in the roadways that ran here and