“Semper difficili quaeruntur summa labore, Arctam semper habet vita beata viam."’

The other monk, an older man, who walked less vigorously, echoed the couplet with slow emphasis, as if savouring every word.  Then both together, bowing their cowled heads, exclaimed fervently: 

‘Thanks be to God for the precious gifts of our brother Marcus!’

Basil endeavoured to utter a few words, but he was now so feeble that he could scarce make his voice heard above the creak of the wheels.  Again he closed his eyes, and his companions pursued their way in silence.  When at length they issued from the forest they overlooked a vast landscape of hill and valley, with heads of greater mountains high above them.  Here rose the walls of the citadel, within which Benedict had built his monastery.  For some distance around these ancient ramparts the ground was tilled, and flourishing with various crops.  At the closed gateway of the old Arx, flanked by a tower, the monks rang, and were at once admitted into the courtyard, where, in a few moments, the prior and all his brethren came forward to greet the strangers.  Because of Basil’s condition the ceremony usual on such arrivals was in his case curtailed:  the prior uttered a brief prayer, gave the kiss of peace, and ordered forthwith the removal of the sick man to a guest-chamber, where he was laid in bed and ministered to by the brother Marcus, whose gifts as a healer were not less notable than his skill in poesy.  The horseman, meanwhile, as custom was with all visitors, had been led to the oratory to hear a passage of Holy Scripture; after which the prior poured water upon his hands, and certain of the monks washed his feet.

Before sunset Basil lost consciousness of present things; and many days went by before he again spoke as a sane man.  When at length the fever declined, and his head turned upon the pillow in search of a human countenance, he saw standing beside him a venerable figure in the monastic garb, whose visage, though wrinkled with age and thought, had such noble vividness in its look, and wore a smile so like that of youth in its half-playful sweetness, that Basil could but gaze wonderingly, awestruck at once, and charmed by this unexpected apparition.

‘My son,’ sounded in a voice grave and tender, ’be your first syllables uttered to Him by whose omnipotent will you are restored to the life of this world.’

With the obedience of a child he clasped his thin hands, and murmured the prayer of childhood.  Then the gracious figure bent over him.  He felt the touch of lips upon his forehead, and in the same moment fell asleep.