customed to reflection or free-will, humble and
trembling before our superiors, had the same pale, dull, colorless
disposition. At last I took orders; once a priest, you invited me,
father, to enter the Company of Jesus, or rather I found myself
insensibly brought to this determination. How, I do not know. For a long
time before, my will was not my own. I went through all my proofs; the
most terrible was decisive; for some months, I lived in the silence of my
cell, practicing with resignation the strange and mechanical exercises
that you ordered me. With the exception of your reverence, nobody
approached me during that long space of time; no human voice but yours
sounded in my ear. Sometimes, in the night, I felt vague terrors; my
mind, weakened by fasting, austerity, and solitude, was impressed with
frightful visions. At other times, on the contrary, I felt a sort of
quiescence, in the idea that, having once pronounced my vows, I should be
delivered for ever from the burden of thought and will. Then I abandoned
myself to an insurmountable torpor, like those unfortunate wretches, who,
surprised by a snow-storm, yield to a suicidal repose. Thus I awaited the
fatal moment. At last, according to the rule of discipline, choking with
the death rattle,[17] I hastened the moment of accomplishing the final act
of my expiring will--the vow to renounce it for ever."

"Remember, my dear son," replied Father d'Aigrigny, pale and tortured by
increasing anguish, "remember, that, on the eve of the day fixed for the
completion of your vows; I offered, according to the rule of our Company,
to absolve you from joining us--leaving you completely free, for we
accept none but voluntary vocations."

"It is true, father," answered Gabriel, with sorrowful bitterness; "when,
worn out and broken by three months of solitude and trial, I was
completely exhausted, and unable to move a step, you opened the door of
my cell, and said to me: 'If you like, rise and walk; you are free; Alas!
I had no more strength. The only desire of my soul, inert and paralyzed
for so long a period, was the repose of the grave; and pronouncing those
irrevocable vows, I fell, like a corpse, into your hands."

"And, till now, my dear son, you have never failed in this corpse--like
obedience,--to use the expression of our glorious founder--because, the
more absolute this obedience, the more meritorious it must be."

After a moment's silence, Gabriel resumed: "You had alw