You are neither in it nor out of it." He took his pinch of snuff with a loud noise, and went on: "Neither in it nor out of it!" Benedetto looked at him without answering.

In those eyes there was something so serious and so sweet, that the Abbot lowered his to the open snuff-box, once more dipping his fingers into it and toying with the snuff.
"I do not understand you," he said.
"You are of the world, and still you are not of it.

You are in the monastery, and still you are not in the monastery.

I fear your head serves you no better than your great-grandfather's, your grandfather's, and your father's served them.

Fine heads, those!" Benedetto's ivory face flushed slightly.
"They are souls with God," he said, "better than we are, and your words offend against one of God's commandments." "Silence!" the Abbot exclaimed.