vulnerable, higher spirit.

"Serapion seemed to be reading my thoughts, and, looking me full in the
face with an expression of the greatest kindliness, he said:

"'I never took you for an evil-disposed adversary, and I see I was not
mistaken. You may have been instigated by somebody--perhaps by the Evil
One himself--to come here to vex and try me, but I am sure it was not a
spontaneous act of yours. And perhaps the fact that you found me other
than you expected, may have strengthened you in your expression of the
doubts which you have suggested. Although I in no sense deviate from
the devoutness beseeming him who has given up his life to God and the
Church, that cynicism of asceticism into which many of my brethren have
fallen--thereby giving proof of the weakness, nay, utter destruction of
their mental vigour, instead of its boasted strength--is utterly
foreign to me! You expected to find the Monk Serapion pale and haggard,
wasted with fast and vigil, all the horror of visions, terrible as
those which drove even St. Anthony to despair, in his sombre face, with
quivering knees scarce able to support him, in a filthy robe, stained
with his blood. You find a placid, cheerful man. But I, too, have
passed through those tortures, and have overcome them and survived. And
when I awoke with shattered limbs and fractured skull, the spirit
dawned, and shone bright within me, restoring my mind and my body to
health. May it please Heaven speedily to grant to you also, my brother,
even here on earth, a peace and happiness such as those which daily
refresh and strengthen _me_. Have no dread of the terror of the deepest
solitude. It is only there that a life like this can dawn upon the
pious soul.'

"Serapion, who had spoken with genuine priestly unction, raised, in
silence, his eyes to Heaven with an expression of blissful gratitude.
How could I feel otherwise than awe-struck! A madman, congratulating
himself on his condition, looking upon it as a priceless gift from
Heaven, and, from the depths of his heart, wishing me a similar fate!

"I was on the point of leaving him, but he began in an altered tone,
saying:

"'You would, probably, scarcely suppose that this wild inhospitable
desert is often almost too full of the noise and bustle of life to be
suitable for my silent meditations. Every day I receive visits from the
most remarkable people of the most diverse kinds. Ariosto was here
yesterday, and Dante and Petrarch afterwards