'
Having reached the monastery gate, the next thing to do was to pull the
bell. The porter opened first his wicket and then the door. The superior
could not be approached for a quarter of an hour, so I was asked to wait
in the lodge. Thus I had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with the
porter. Although he was very much in religion, having been a brother at
Echourgnac since the foundation, he might be termed without disrespect 'a
jolly old soul.' He was, as he said, a man who had no pretensions whatever
to be learned. His lack of book knowledge made him all the more natural.
His age appeared to be about sixty-five, but he had a body that was still
robust and vigorous under his dirty brown frock, although he had been
living so many years on bread and cheese and vegetables, and short commons
withal. The post of porter must have helped him not a little to bear up
against the discipline, for it allowed him the use of his tongue, and the
rule of silence would have been a more severe trial to him than to many
another. He poured out some beer for me from a great stone jar that he kept
near at hand. I had heard that the Trappists of Echourgnac added to their
other accomplishments the arts of beer-brewing and wine-making, and was
therefore not surprised by the porter's kindly offer; but when I noticed
the yellow colour and soup-like consistency of the fluid that he poured out
for me, I was sorry that I had accepted it.
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