"_Carissimi, nolite peregrinari in fervore, qui ad tentationem vobis fit, quasi novi aliquid contingat: sed communicantes Christi passionibus gaudete, ut in revelatione gloriae ejus gaudeatis exsultantes._" The Abbot's eye rested upon Brother Cypriano, the least lettered of the lay-monks, and, for Brother Cypriano's benefit, he sought to turn St. Peter's words into the vernacular. "'Most beloved, do not think strange this fiery trial which comes to try you, as if some new thing were happening to you: but, sharing in the sufferings of Christ, rejoice, so that at the revelation of his glory you may rejoice with great joy.'" His translation did not wholly satisfy the Abbot, and he sought to mend it. "_Nolite peregrinari_," he repeated. "Brother Cypriano, a peregrinus is one who comes from a foreign land. If a _peregrinus_ from China should land in Portugal, he would find many of our most familiar customs new and strange. _Nolite peregrinari_. It is as though Saint Peter would say to us all to-night: 'My beloved, men are smiting you and driving you forth from your only shelter. Why are you surprised? Do not stand like _peregrini_ gaping and staring, as Greeks might gape and stare at Barbarians. This is not a strange thing: it is the old way, the natural way of the world with our Lord and with his own.' If He suffered, shall not we suffer? _Non est servus major domino suo_: 'A servant is not greater than his Lord.' Yes, Saint Peter, after all, is only echoing our divine Lord's own words. _Beati estis cum maledixerint vobis, et persecuti vos fuerint, et dixerint omne malum adversum vos mentientes, propter me: gaudete et exsultate quoniam merces vestra copiosa est in coelis: sic enim persecuti sunt prophetas qui fuerunt ante vos_. 'Blessed are ye when they shall revile you and shall persecute you, and shall falsely speak all that is evil against you for My sake: be glad and rejoice, for abundant is your reward in heaven; for so they persecuted the prophets which were before you.'" The aged man's voice became almost sonorous as he rolled forth the Latin words. He so pronounced the vowels that one thought of bells, some silvern, some of bronze. Most of his hearers had extinguished the lamps and candles which they still held in their hands: but here and there a flame still flickered. Unconsciously they had fallen into such groups and attitudes that the sable monks, with the white and golden Abbot in their midst, might have stepped down from some painted and gilded altar-piece of the fourteenth century. For a brief spell the venerable Abbot continued comforting his children, striving to subdue their worldly anger and to lift their dire trouble to the height of the Cross. He knew the whole of the New Testament by heart, in Latin, and as he had begun his exhortation with words of Saint Peter, he went on quoting from the letters of that apostle only.