profound meditation.

A Spaniard will not put a piece of orange, a bit of cheese, or a mouthful of bread into his mouth in the presence of others before he has asked every one to eat with him; and so I saw fruit, bread, sardines, and cups of wine pass under my nose, everything accompanied with a polite “Gusta usted comer, commigo?” (Will you eat with me, sir?) To which I replied, “Gracias” (No, thank you), though it went against the grain to do so, for I was as hungry as Ugolino. Opposite to me, with her feet almost touching mine, sat a young nun, if one were to judge of her age by her chin, which was all of her face visible below her veil, and by her hand, which lay carelessly on her knee. I looked at her closely for more than an hour, hoping that she would raise her face, but she remained motionless as a statue, although from her attitude it was easy to see that she was obliged to resist the natural curiosity to look around her; and for this reason she finally won my admiration. What constancy! I thought; what strength of will! What a power of sacrifice even in these trifling matters! What a noble contempt for human vanity! As I was engaged with these thoughts I happened to glance at her hand; it was a small, white hand, and it seemed to me to be moving. I watched it more intently, and saw it escape very slowly out of the sleeve, extend the fingers, and rest on the knee, so that for a moment it hung gracefully down; then it turned a little to one side, was drawn back, and again extended. Oh, ye gods! anything but contempt of human vanity!