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DAIFN IN ALARLU
141
Eidon knelt for blessing in the morning-lit room
—a little gaspingly he knelt, because of that un¬
ascetic plumpness, and kissed the Bishop’s hand.
Then, even before the hasting clatter of Amima’s
footsteps had died in the lower distance, he had
raised his head and was speaking astonishing
words, his narrow, unswerving eyes fixed on
Nerses.
‘ My lord, I desire to retire to the Monastery of
Mevr.’
‘ Retire ? ’ Nerses stared at him. This was
unexpected enough. ‘ Retire ? Become a monk ? ’
The chaplain bowed his head. The Bishop,
puzzled and amazed, sat erect, surveying
him.
‘But this . is surely a hasty decision, my
Eidon ? Retire ? Your labours here are of
moment, your place firm in the hearts of Alarlu’s
folk ’
‘ And my soul enchained by these snares of hell.
O my lord, at last I have seen it! Last night the
revelation came to me ’ (the bishop started and
turned away his head)—‘that I am denying my
God and denying my soul in these tasks and loves
I have cherished.’ Suddenly he seemed no longer
ridiculous, kneeling ungraceful there. His eyes
on the Bishop burned with belief. ‘ I have filled
myself with conceit and worldly pride and only in
the silences of the cell may I expiate that pride
and escape the hell of the lost.’
The Bishop rose to his feet. ‘ You are unstrung.
141
Eidon knelt for blessing in the morning-lit room
—a little gaspingly he knelt, because of that un¬
ascetic plumpness, and kissed the Bishop’s hand.
Then, even before the hasting clatter of Amima’s
footsteps had died in the lower distance, he had
raised his head and was speaking astonishing
words, his narrow, unswerving eyes fixed on
Nerses.
‘ My lord, I desire to retire to the Monastery of
Mevr.’
‘ Retire ? ’ Nerses stared at him. This was
unexpected enough. ‘ Retire ? Become a monk ? ’
The chaplain bowed his head. The Bishop,
puzzled and amazed, sat erect, surveying
him.
‘But this . is surely a hasty decision, my
Eidon ? Retire ? Your labours here are of
moment, your place firm in the hearts of Alarlu’s
folk ’
‘ And my soul enchained by these snares of hell.
O my lord, at last I have seen it! Last night the
revelation came to me ’ (the bishop started and
turned away his head)—‘that I am denying my
God and denying my soul in these tasks and loves
I have cherished.’ Suddenly he seemed no longer
ridiculous, kneeling ungraceful there. His eyes
on the Bishop burned with belief. ‘ I have filled
myself with conceit and worldly pride and only in
the silences of the cell may I expiate that pride
and escape the hell of the lost.’
The Bishop rose to his feet. ‘ You are unstrung.
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| The books of Lewis Grassic Gibbon > Persian dawns, Egyptian nights > (145) |
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| Permanent URL | https://digital.nls.uk/205202848 |
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| Description | J. Leslie Mitchell ; with a foreword by J.D. Beresford. |
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| Shelfmark | Vts.148.d.8 |
| Attribution and copyright: |
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More information
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| Description | Sixteen books written by Lewis Grassic Gibbon (1901-1935), regarded as the most important Scottish prose writer of the early 20th century. All were published in the last seven years of his life, mostly under his real name, James Leslie Mitchell. They include two works of science fiction, non-fiction works on exploration, short stories set in Egypt, a novel about Spartacus, and the classic 'Scots Quair' trilogy which includes 'Sunset Song'. Mitchell's first book 'Hanno, or the future of exploration' (1928) is rare and has never been republished. |
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