The abbot, seeing that there was little chance of my recovery, would not send for the physician. And so, I languished for weeks, suffering from thirst and burning pains and hunger. I raved and chattered in my delirium. I betrayed myself, too, they told me. The monks my brothers, even during my suffering, made a scandal of the love affair I related. They said that I exposed my wounds and my broken heart before the Virgin, that I sinned in thought and word on my deathbed. Allah forgive them. It may be, however; for I know not what I said and what I did. But when I recovered, I was determined not to remain in the monastery, and not to return to the world. The wicked world, I disentangled myself absolutely from its poisoned meshes. I came to the Hermitage, to this place. And never, since I made my second remove until now, have I known disease, or sorrow, nor treachery, which is worse than both. Allah be praised! One’s people, one’s brothers, one’s lovers and friends, are a hindrance and botheration. We are nothing, nothing: God is everything. God is the only reality. And in God alone is my refuge. That is my story in brief. If I did not like you, I would not have told it, and so freely. Meditate upon it, and on the insignificance and evanescence of human life. The world is a snare, and a bad snare, at that. For it can not hold us long enough in it to learn to like it. It is a cobbler’s snare. The world is full of cobblers, O Khalid. Come away from it; be an ideal craftsman—be an extremist—be a purist—come live with me. Let us join our souls in devotion, and our hearts in love. Come, let us till and cultivate this vineyard together.’
“And taking me by the hand, he shows me a cell furnished with a hair-mat, a masnad (leaning pillow), and a chair. ‘This cell,’ says he, ‘was occupied by the Bishop when he came here for a spiritual exercise of three weeks. It shall be yours if you come; it’s the best cell in the Hermitage. Now, let us visit the chapel.’ I go in with him, and as we are coming out, I ask him childlike for a wafer. He brings the box straightway, begs me to take as much as I desire, and placing his hand on my shoulder, encircles me with one of his benignant glances, saying, ‘Allah illumine thy heart, O Khalid.’ ‘Allah hear thy prayer,’ I reply. And we part in tears.”