"For a few months I was with the English fathers in Lisbon," Sebastian answered. "They were kind; but when it became plain that the Portuguese Benedictine congregation must come to an end, I crossed Spain and sought asylum at the Montserrat, where men used to believe the Holy Grail was treasured. There was much work for me to do there in the School of Music; and I found strength to do it, for we lived like eagles high up in the pure air, three thousand feet above the sea. But Madrid followed the example of Lisbon. Greedy eyes were cast on our possessions. They accused us of being Carlists, just as in Portugal they accused us of being Miguelistas: and only eighteen months after leaving this abbey, I was again an exile. Since then I have dwelt in three religious houses; and every one of them has been suppressed." "Can it be," asked Antonio uneasily, "that the Orders are themselves to blame, as men say? Here we dwelt in simplicity and piety, living by our own labor and feeding the poor. But was this house an exception? Had the majority of other monks indeed sunk into gluttony and sloth?" "In every monastery from which I have been driven," said Sebastian, "our evictors poured regrets and compliments upon us. It was always the misdeeds of 'others,' for which we had to suffer. But whenever I questioned an exiled community, I found they had received the same compliments. Those mysterious 'others' have still to be found. According to the statesmen, all religious houses individually are fountains of light and blessing to their neighbors; but collectively they are a dark curse on the nations." "Unbelieving men are determined to mulct us of all we have," said Antonio, "and therefore they must needs invent crimes to suit our punishment. They hang us first and indict us afterwards." "They oppress us," agreed Sebastian, "in the great and sacred name of liberty. But the avarice of godless men is the mainspring of it all. I have seen five houses confiscated 'for the good of the People'; and in not one case have the People received a third of the plunder. But enough of this. Tell me your own story." "Where is the Prior?" "He is dead. He died in Belgium." "The Cellarer?" "He is dead. He died in Brazil." "Father Isidoro?" "He is dead. He died in Spain." With a sinking heart, Antonio named the choir-monks one by one; and, after each name, Sebastian answered: "He is dead." Father Sebastian believed that Brother Cypriano was still alive; but, of the Fathers, only he and Antonio were left. "_Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine_," murmured Antonio. "_Et lux perpetua luceat eis_," Sebastian responded. "To-morrow morning," added Sebastian, "will be the anniversary of the Abbot's last Mass. If our Lord will give me strength I shall say Mass at this altar once more."