ht hand coming here, is the Hermitage."

We remember passing a pretty cottage surrounded by a vineyard in that
rocky wilderness; but who would mistake that for a troglodyte's cave?
"And this young man from Baalbek," we ask, "how did he live in this
forest?"

"Yonder," points the monk, "he cleared and cleaned for himself a
little space which he made his workshop. And up in the pines he
constructed a platform, which he walled and covered with boughs. And
when he was not working or walking, he would be there among the
branches, either singing or asleep. I used to envy him that nest in
the pines."

"And did he ever go to church?"

"He attended mass twice in our chapel, on Good Friday and on Easter
Sunday, I think."

"And did he visit the abbey often?"

"Only when he wanted cheese or olive oil." (Shame, O Khalid!) "But he
often repaired to the Hermitage. I went with him once to listen to his
conversation with the Hermit. They often disagreed, but never
quarrelled. I like that young man in spite of his oddities of thought,
which savoured at times of infidelity. But he is honest, believe me;
never tells a lie; and in a certain sense he is as pious as our
Hermit, I think. Roll another cigarette."

"Thank you. And the Hermit, what is your opinion of him?"

"Well, h'm--h'm--go visit him. A good man he is, but very simple. And
between us, he likes money too much. H'm, h'm, go visit him. If I were
not engaged at present, I would accompany you thither."

We thank our good monk and retrace our steps to the Hermitage, rolling
meanwhile in our mind that awful remark about the Hermit's love of
money. Blindness and Plague! even the troglodyte loves and worships
thee, thou silver Demiurge! We can not believe it. The grudges of
monks against each other often reach darker and more fatal depths.
Alas, if the faith of the cheese-monger is become adulterated, what
shall we say of the faith of our monkhood? If the salt of the
earth--but not to the nunnery nor to the monkery, we go. Rather let us
to the Hermitage, Reader, and with an honest heart; in earnest, not in
sport.

CHAPTER X

THE VINEYARD IN THE KAABA

This, then, is the cave of our troglodyte! Allah be praised, even the
hermits of the Lebanon mountains, like the prophets of America and
other electric-age species, are subject to the laws of evolution. A
cottage and chapel set in a vineyard, the most beautiful we have yet
seen, looms up in this rocky wilderness l