“If you only knew the ‘hermitage’ I have selected for you and myself in Lebanon, you would this minute take me by the hand and say, ‘Let us go!’ It is a real cloister, Mischa, and not an imitation one as this studio.1
It is a small, deserted monastery right near my home town of Bisharri. The name of it is Mar Sarkis. It stands at the upper end of the gorge of Kadisha on the slopes of Cedar Mountain. Its chapel and few cells are hewn into the limestone side of the mountain. The terraced land before it slopes precipitously down to the gorge and is still green with ever-green oaks and grape vines. A more peaceful and beautiful spot for solitude can hardly be found even in heaven. I have empowered an attorney in Tripoli to buy it for me. There is danger, however, that the monks, once they discover who the prospective buyer is, would refuse to sell. For I, as you know, am an atheist in their eyes. But the attorney is a friend of mine and a capable one. He will somehow fool the monks and arrange the matter.