CLAIR DE LUNE'S
Part 9's

“Betul, right, Bonaventure told Clair-de-Lune, “this biara is close!” and looking at the brother he said, “I invite this lady to meet Brother Inchmahome. Please tell me, where was he this morning?”

“There was in his study room, Brother Rat,” the man said, and he lowered the rat carefully to the floor, and, then—before Clair-de-Lune had paid his respects to the monk—tikus was running agilely along the corridor, passing a stone road where there was a statue of the Virgin Mary in blue hoods, and passing through some large windows facing the sea.

But, the old monk smiled at Clair-de-Lune's back, as if he knew her, or had long awaited her arrival.

At the end of the corridor the door opened. Bonaventure rushed into it. Clair-de-Lune followed him timidly; and knew he was already on the doorstep of a beautiful stone room surrounded by bookshelves. Another door opened to a garden full of flowers and plants, which ended in a ravine to the sea. In the middle of the room, at the stone table, sat quietly and quietly a man.

This man was thin, his bones were smooth, his hair was curly and very dark, and his gray eyes were half hidden behind a pair of glasses. His head was shaved—because he was a monk—and he wore a brown-colored rough monk robe, which was tied around the waist with a strip of mine, and brown sandals.

The shape of his head was good like a chicken egg; his jawline was as if painted by a painter's brush, clean and smooth, as if, his chin was pointed—and split in the middle—and his forehead was very high (as was an egg) so that his hair seemed to grow on top of the mound which was the upper boundary of his forehead, and was far away from his eyes.

His hair grew into two round mounds, making his pointy-leaved face heart-shaped. His skin, which was slightly tanned in the sun, emitted a gentle warm glow, and—even though he was neat enough—the bottom of his face was decorated with black dots of his beard shave.

His nose was sharp and intelligent, his mouth was friendly, and his teeth were large white. His face was pleasant, handsome, and gentle. But perhaps, his expression was the most admirable; also his eyes.

Behind the clarity of his gray eyes—not gray-blue, not gray-green, but gray water flowing on the stone— stored something, because the eyes were hidden shyly behind his glasses. And his facial expression…

Right now he was diligently observing the large and smooth oval-shaped stone, which was located on the table. There was a large book open by his side, and the pages of the book under his thin hand were already half-filled with his small, curly, and delicate handwriting; but he had now stopped writing, and looked at the stone with a very calm and happy expression. It was as if he was staring at the most beautiful thing in the world.

This is Brother Inchmahome, whose eyes always seem to stare at the most beautiful thing in the world.

Other than books, the room was empty, but the gray stone that lined the walls and floors was so beautiful, the garden outside was so amazing, and Brother Inchmahome was so calm and happy that to Clair-de-Lune, the old man was so happy, the room was the most beautiful place he had ever seen.

Meanwhile, Bonaventure had climbed onto Brother Inchmahome's arm and tickled him with his whiskers, slightly below his ears.

Brother Inchmahome is not moving. With eyes still staring at the stone, he said in a soft and humorous voice, “Good morning, Bonaventure.”

“Bruder Inchmahome,” said the rat, “I invite someone to meet you. She is a reliable dancer—ia dances as beautiful as a mouse!—but she is sad. It's mysterious, isn't it? But I know Brother—who is interested in anyone and anything, and very wise—can solve the problem!”

Let me know, why?”

Clair-de-Lune stared back at Brother Inchmahome in astonishment. He has never been looked at like this. Everyone looked at him as if they knew what they were going to see his grandmother, Monsieur Dupoint, the other dance students, even Bonaventure who was so friendly, funny, and kind.

But Brother Inchmahome looked at him as if he had just discovered a new land, whose mountains and rivers, trees and animals, seasons and dangers, were still unknown to him. He seemed entirely interested in what he would find, no matter what it was. And it seems that for Clair-de-Lune—which, it is worth remembering, just found the mountain, sea, and sky inside the building it—ini was the most amazing thing all that morning.

Faced with such an interest, he barely knew what to do. But he had not yet felt awkward Brother Inchmahome had said again.

“Ah,” said softly. “You're sad because you can't talk.”

Clair-de-Lune's eyes widened in amazement.

Bonaventure was skipping on the table and squeaking. He was so excited that his mouse accent became so loud and elusive Clair-de-Lune.

“Ah, I'm a stupid rat!” abugn. “Why

not thought of by me! This mademoiselle cannot speak! Indeed, this is an incredible misfortune! Even dancing, of course, can not match the ability to talk. At least, not too able to match. Take a look, isn't Brother very wise?” he added with pride to Clair-de-Lune, after which he was calmer.

“Oh, that's not wisdom!” brother Inchmahome.

“I just listened. And you, my dear Bonaventure,” he added firmly,

“ absolutely not stupid, I hope you know that!” While saying so, he turned to the mouse attentively so that Clair-de-Lune felt sad, as if she had been forgotten.

But a moment later the Brother had already noticed Clair-de-Lune again. “Mademoiselle, I have to tell you something. Do you know, the monks here try to be quiet as much as possible, and that in the evening—from the end of the evening prayer until the beginning of the morning prayer—the silence should only be disturbed when there is a very urgent need? We call it the Great Silence. Silence is good because it helps people to listen. Silence can express more than a thousand words.

Seriate...