CHAPTER XV
THE ABBOT OF SAN JUAN
The two weeks which followed constituted, I have no hesitation insaying, the gala fortnight of my existence.
I never could have imagined it possible that so much pleasure couldhave been crowded into such a short time. But can it not be easilybelieved that everything then was to me gilded with that supreme finegold, the glamour of a young love? Yes, I think even the old Donhimself saw it, and at any rate did not forbid it.
I went about with Dolores everywhere, even to church, at which she wasa regular attendant, and I flatter myself behaved very creditablythere, for though I was not a Roman Catholic like herself, yet I hadattended the Sunday evening ministrations of the monks of Bath, andknew a good deal about it through the said monks' discourses.
I hope I don't make a mistake in calling them monks--if I do, I asktheir pardon. I certainly understood them to _say_ they were monks.
Be that as it may. I did not disgrace Dolores when I went with her tothe great cathedral in Valoro.
But our time there was by no means entirely spent in going to church.Day after day the old Don engaged special trains in which we flew aboutthe Republic faring sumptuously everywhere, and on our return therewould generally be a dinner-party, followed by the theatre or theopera--a magnificent house and performance--and as likely as not a ballafter that. Much more of it would have killed us all.
But the gay life mercifully drew towards a close, and Dolores and Ibegan to contemplate a pleasurable voyage back on that very ship onwhich we had first met and loved.
Yes, loved; we were plighted lovers now; there was no secret, no hidinganything from one another.
By Dolores' wish I only waited to reach England to tell her father ofmy love for her and ask him for her.
"And do you think he will give you to me, darling?" I asked onebeautiful night, when we were sitting out a waltz at a ball at thehouse of a grandee at Valoro. "Do you think he will give you to anEnglishman?"
"Considering that he gave his sister away to an Englishman I don't seehow he can refuse me to you, dearest," she answered. "At any rate Ithink I can persuade him."
Yes, I believed she could, she looked capable of persuading the angelsthemselves, in her dress of white silk, cut rather low, with a stringof pearls round her neck worth about the value of the winner of theDerby.
Towards the last few days of our stay in Aquazilia, when we were all,even Lady Ethel, surfeited with dancing, and St. Nivel and I began tolook askance at banquets, Don Juan came to me one day and took me asideinto his garden.
I purposely led him away from the direction of the reptile houses ofwhich I had a holy horror, and we sauntered down a shady avenue ofpalms.
"There is one place of interest near Valoro, Mr. Anstruther," he said,"which I should much like to show you and Lord St. Nivel if he cares tocome, and that is the great Trappist Monastery at San Juan del Monte,about ten miles from here."
"By Jove!" I answered, "that is the very place I should like to see!I'm your man at any time."
"If you can be up by seven to-morrow morning," continued the old man,"we can motor over in the cool of the day. I know it is asking a gooddeal of you, because we have this evening to attend the reception ofyour minister, and then go on to the ball at Donna Elvira dellaGranja's. At the earliest we shall not be in bed till two, I fear."
"Never mind," I answered, "a cold tub usually puts me straight after alate night, and I am particularly anxious to see some real live monksin real cells."
"You will see both there in dozens," replied d'Alta; "there are nearlythree hundred monks there."
Despite the dissipation of the night, six o'clock the next morning sawme out of bed, and 7.45 found me dressed for the road and as fresh frommy cold bath as if His Britannic Majesty's Minister at Valoro had notgiven a reception at all, and Donna Elvira della Granja's ball hadnever taken place, though I certainly put in an appearance at theformer, sitting in a corner with Dolores and listening to herdescription of all the political notabilities present, and at thelatter I certainly did my duty as an Englishman, as many a black-eyeddonna could testify, albeit I had all the best waltzes with Dolores,and of course took her in to supper.
I think every one in Valoro by this time put us down as an engagedcouple; especially as old Don Juan seemed a consenting party ordiscreetly blind to our proceedings.
St. Nivel told me afterwards of a conversation he overheard between twoAmerican attaches at Donna Elvira's.
"I guess," remarked the "Military" to the "Naval," "that Englishman'sgoin' to walk off with old d'Alta's girl."
"You bet," confirmed the Naval, "he's fairly on the job. What is he?"
"Well, he's the cousin of that young Lord St. Nivel," responded theMilitary, "and that counts a lot, of course. But his _real_ trade I'mtold is book writing."
"Jeehosophat!" commented the Naval. "I guess he'll chuck that whenhe's Don Juan's son-in-law; the old snake-charmer will never tolerate amere _bookman_ in his drawing-room. His blue Spanish blood would allturn green, I reckon."
Thus was the humble calling of a novelist despised, even in Valoro!
When, however, I descended from my bedroom at 7.45, after partaking ofa delicious _petit dejeuner_ of coffee, milk, bread, and fruit in myapartment, I found Don Juan d'Alta ready for the road, and the motor atthe door. In five minutes St. Nivel joined us.
"I didn't like to be left behind, old sportsman," he exclaimed."Staying in bed on a huntin' mornin' is not exactly my form, even whenthe quarry is merely a harmless Trappist!"
"Your early habits do you credit, but your language, St. Nivel," I saidreprovingly, "is verging on the profane."
"I'm sure I'm very sorry," he answered. "I'd walk ten miles ratherthan offend any one's feelings. I hope Don Juan didn't hear me."
"Don Juan is a man of the world," I answered, "and it wouldn't matterif he did, but other people might hear you and not like it."
"Righto, Bill," replied my sporting cousin. "I'll keep my eye on youand try and not put my foot in it."
In a few minutes we were rattling through some magnificent mountainscenery, with luxuriant vegetation and lovely wild flowers on everyside. On the tops of the trees were parrots of varied colours which,disturbed by the noise of the motor, fluttered in all directions beforeus.
"Now I particularly want you to notice the abbot," said Don Juan as weapproached the monastery, a very ancient-looking pile of buildingssituated in a most lonely spot on the side of a mountain, yetsurrounded by scenery which would have rivalled any in the world; "heis a most remarkable man, and possesses, as you will see, a mostremarkable presence."
Presently we drew up at a very plain front door, and were immediatelyreconnoitred through a small wicket hole.
"The janitor," observed St. Nivel, "is evidently taking stock of us,and for that reason, Bill, I feel thankful that you have put on thatnew Norfolk suit; it gives the whole party a classy appearance."
The survey seemed satisfactory. Some bolts were shot back and the dooropened, disclosing a monk in a brown habit.
He made some evidently most respectful remarks to Don Juan in Spanish,and then we all entered the monastery and were shown into a guest-room.
Here in a few minutes another lay brother brought a liqueur stand withglasses.
"Veritable Chartreuse," remarked Don Juan, as he laid his hand on thelittle decanters of green and yellow liquid, "the true stream drunk atthe source!"
He filled the little glasses and handed them round as the lay brotherstood looking on admiringly.
"You must take some," he said, "or they will be offended."
St. Nivel sipped his glass appreciatively.
"The monk who invented this," he remarked sententiously, "_deserved_ togo to heaven."
"Our abbot will give himself the honour of waiting upon yourlordships," were the lay brother's parting words as translated to us byDon Juan.
We possessed our spirits in contentment, and awaited his comin
g, whilstd'Alta expatiated on the rigours of the Trappists' life, theirisolation, their silence, their exactness in the keeping of the Officeof the Church.
I fear this discourse, earnest though it was on the part of our host,was lost upon St. Nivel, whom I detected catching flies--and liberatingthem immediately--in the most solemn part. To him the severest form ofpenance was represented by a life from which all descriptions of"huntin'" and "shootin'" were excluded. He had been burning to killsomething big in the game line ever since he had set foot on shore, andI was quite prepared to hear him ask the abbot when he arrived whetherhe was "a huntin' man." He had asked that question of almost everybodywe had met up to then in Aquazilia.
The abbot, however, came at last, just as Don Juan was concluding anaccount of St. Bruno, the Founder of the Order, and Jack was sittingwith his eyes stolidly fixed upon the liqueur decanter.
Yes, the abbot was all d'Alta had said; he was a man of fifty, tall,spare, straight as a dart, but unlike most of the other monks we saw,fair and fresh coloured.
I stood looking at him for some time, gazing into his fair open face,after he had taken my hand and released it. I wondered who it was hereminded me of, whose face he brought so vividly to my recollection.Yet striking as the likeness was to _some one_, I could not recall whothat some one was.
"You must be hungry after your drive, gentlemen," he said, speakingvery fair English, as indeed most educated people did in Aquazilia. "Ihave ordered _dejeuner_ at once for you. While it is preparing wouldyou like to see the monastery?"
St. Nivel and I at once expressed our pleasure at the prospect, and theabbot preceded us, walking with Don Juan, but stopping occasionally toturn and speak to us and point out some object of interest.
In this way we passed through the wonderful institution and saw theTrappists each in his little abode, a sort of cottage to himself inwhich he ate and slept, and worked _alone_. At stated hours allthrough the day and night, the hundreds of monks met in the church torecite the office.
Don Juan told us as we stood on the steps of the great corridor that hehad spent a week there in retreat before his marriage, and kept the"Hours" with the community.
Pointing down the corridor which stretched before us, he said the sightwhich struck him most was to stand as we did, on a night in winter andhear the great bell ring for Matins.
"Then," said he, "all those doors of the little houses open, and fromeach comes out a monk with a lantern. They look like hundreds offireflies all going towards the great Abbey church."
I think the abbot saw with that intuitive knowledge which belongs to arefined nature that St. Nivel was _bored_; he steered us back to theguest-room, where a most excellent lunch was awaiting us--soup, fish, adish of cutlets and a sweet omelette, all excellent, and served withred and white wine-like nectar and coffee from the Trappists' estate onthe hills.
The abbot did not eat with us, but sat and charmed us with hisconversation, for charming it was.
He talked with that fascinating fluency which one would have expectedto find in a travelled man of the world rather that in a cloisteredmonk. He held us during all that meal, giving zest to each dish thatcame, with anecdotes of every country, and yet he spoke with a refinedsimplicity and perfect innocence of thought. His clear-cut and healthyface, his bright blue eyes and white teeth, the exceeding sweetness ofhis face and expression are with me now as I write.
When it was over and we had parted from him and were flying back toValoro and modernism, I turned to Don Juan and spoke my thoughts.
"And where," I asked, "can the Order of Trappists have gained such awonderful recruit from?"
The old man's face, which had been smiling, turned very grave; he shookhis head and sighed.
"Ah! I wish I could tell you!"
That was his answer.