s twenty years ago. Yet I am
not fifty years old, and am still in the full vigour of manhood. It may
be long before a small wooden cross marks my resting-place in the
cemetery. When the last hour comes I shall pray them to bring me here,
that amidst these splendours of nature my soul may wing its flight to
the greater splendours of paradise. I feel that I could not die in my
cell."

"How is it you are allowed so much freedom?" we asked. "We thought that
here you were all more or less cloistered. It was our wish to see the
interior of the monastery, but the lay monk who receives visitors said
it was not permitted."

"A strict rule," returned the monk; "but if you are staying here a
couple of days, I could take you in. To-morrow is a great fast; to enter
would be impossible; the day after it might be done."

"Unhappily we cannot remain. To-morrow at latest we return to Barcelona.
But, if we may ask it again without indiscretion, whence have you this
indulgence and power?"

"The secret lies in the fact that I possess a talent," smiled the monk.
"I was always passionately fond of music, and as a pastime studied it
closely and earnestly. Here I have turned it to account. Whether it was
the necessity for an occupation, or that it was always in me, I
developed a strange faculty for imparting knowledge to others. I fire
them with enthusiasm, and they make vast progress. My name, I am told,
has become a proverb in our large towns. It has been of use to the
monastery: has enlarged the school, added to the revenues. In return I
have obtained certain privileges; a greater freedom of action. Otherwise
my power would leave me. This is why I can promise to open doors to you
that are usually closed to the world. Yet in what would you be the
better? Curiosity would hardly be satisfied in viewing the bare cells
and long gloomy passages, the cold and empty refectory, where perchance
you might see spread out a banquet of bread and water, a little dried
fish or a few sweet herbs."

"There is always something that appeals to one, strangely attractive, in
the interior of a monastery," we returned.

"I know it," replied the monk, whose new name he told us was Salvador.
"It is a world apart and savours of the mysterious. It possesses also a
certain mystic element. Thus the atmosphere surrounding it is romantic
and picturesque, appealing strongly to the imagination. Sympathy goes
out to the little band of men who have bound themselves tog