even then he must find it!"

"Go and live in peace, then," said the Abbe. "Do not fret yourself with
wondering whether your soul is enclosed or no; and take this piece of
advice: You are accustomed--are you not?--to repeat prayers that you
know by heart, and it is especially under those circumstances that
wandering supervenes. Well, then, set those prayers aside, and restrict
yourself to following, very regularly, the prayers of the services in
the convent-chapel. You are less familiar with them, and merely to
follow them you will be obliged to read them with care. Thus you will be
less likely to have a divided mind."

"No doubt," replied Durtal. "But when I have not repeated the prayers I
am wont to say, I feel as though I had not prayed at all. I know that
this is absurd; still, there is no faithful soul who does not know the
feeling when the text of his prayers is altered."

The Abbe smiled.

"The best prayers," said he, "are those of the Liturgy, those which God
Himself has taught us, those alone which are expressed in language
worthy of Him--in His own language. They are complete, and supreme; for
all our desires, all our regrets, all our wailing are contained in the
Psalms. The prophet foresaw and said everything; leave him, then, to
speak for you, and thus, as your interpreter before God, give you his
help.

"As to the prayers you may feel moved to address to God apart from the
hours devoted to the purpose, let them be short. Imitate the Recluses of
Egypt, the Fathers in the Desert, who were masters in the art of
supplication. This is what old Isaac said to Cassian: 'Pray briefly and
often, lest, if your orisons be long, the enemy will come to disturb
them. Follow these two rules, they will save you from secret upheaval.

"So, go in peace; and if any trouble should overtake you, do not
hesitate to consult the Abbe Plomb."

"Eh, our friend," cried Madame Bavoil, laughing, "and you might also
cure yourself of wandering thoughts by the method employed by the Abbess
of Sainte-Aure when she chanted the Psalter: she sat in a chair of which
the back was garnished with a hundred long nails, and when she felt
herself wandering she pressed her shoulder firmly against the points;
there is nothing better, I can tell you, for bringing folks back to
reality and recalling their wandering attention."

"Thank you, indeed!"

"There is another thing," she went on, not laughing now. "You ought to
postpone your departure f