very much so, but this did not make him neglect the duties of his
function: he was chosen (in spite of his jealous competitors) Definitor
of his Province, or, according to them, one of the greatest pillars of
their order.

Father Cato became acquainted with Madam de Warrens at the Marquis of
Antremont's; he had heard of her concerts, wished to assist at them, and
by his company rendered our meetings truly agreeable. We were soon
attached to each other by our mutual taste for music, which in both was a
most lively passion, with this difference, that he was really a musician,
and myself a bungler. Sometimes assisted by Canavas and the Abbe Palais,
we had music in his apartment; or on holidays at his organ, and
frequently dined with him; for, what was very astonishing in a monk,
he was generous, profuse, and loved good cheer, without the least
tincture of greediness. After our concerts, he always used to stay to
supper, and these evenings passed with the greatest gayety and
good-humor; we conversed with the utmost freedom, and sang duets; I was
perfectly at my ease, had sallies of wit and merriment; Father Cato was
charming, Madam de Warrens adorable, and the Abbe Palais, with his rough
voice, was the butt of the company. Pleasing moments of sportive youth,
how long since have ye fled!

As I shall have no more occasion to speak of poor Father Cato, I will
here conclude in a few words his melancholy history. His brother monks,
jealous, or rather exasperated to discover in him a merit and elegance of
manners which favored nothing of monastic stupidity, conceived the most
violent hatred to him, because he was not as despicable as themselves;
the chiefs, therefore, combined against this worthy man, and set on the
envious rabble of monks, who otherwise would not have dared to hazard the
attack. He received a thousand indignities; they degraded him from his
office, took away the apartment which he had furnished with elegant
simplicity, and, at length, banished him, I know not whither: in short,
these wretches overwhelmed him with so many evils, that his honest and
proud soul sank under the pressure, and, after having been the delight of
the most amiable societies, he died of grief, on a wretched bed, hid in
some cell or dungeon, lamented by all worthy people of his acquaintance,
who could find no fault in him, except his being a monk.

Accustomed to this manner of life for some time, I became so entirely
attached to mus