Gustave Moreau alone transposed her to paint—Moreau, too, was a cenobite of art.
He retained his old habits as a cenobite, and even as a hermit.
Her neatness and the exquisite care she took of her person had in them little of the cenobite.
And though the cenobite realises his personality, it is often an impoverished personality that he so realises.
Like a cenobite's cell, ...