ime,
clear and positive. Devoted as he was to nature and to art, and
attracted by all the pleasing aspects of life, he would naturally shrink
from mysticism. He had not acquired his faith; he had never concentrated
all his thoughts upon it for any length of time, therefore it was not
possible that it should have penetrated all his sentiments. Religion was
to him what science is to the student, whose first thought is school,
where he studies diligently, having no peace until he has done his home
tasks, and is prepared for the next lesson, but who, once his duty is
performed, thinks no more either of teachers or of books, and does not
feel the need of regulating his actions according to scientific
conclusions or scholastic programmes. Therefore it would often seem that
Franco's life was influenced by nothing else than his warm and generous
heart, his passionate inclinations, his lively impressions, and the
impulses of his honest nature, which was offended by every kind of
untruth and meanness, while he chafed under contradiction, and was
incapable of deceit.

He had just sealed his letter when some one knocked at the door. The
Marchesa had sent to summon Don Franco downstairs to recite the Rosary.
At Casa Maironi they recited the Rosary every evening between seven and
eight, and the servants were obliged to be present. The Marchesa herself
intoned the prayers, enthroned on her sofa, her sleepy eyes roving over
the backs and legs of the worshippers, kneeling, some in one position,
some in another, some in the light best adapted to set off a devotional
attitude, and others in the shadow which would favour a comfortable, but
forbidden nap. Franco entered the room as the nasal voice was repeating
the sweet words: "_Ave Maria, gratia plena_," with that drawling unction
which always inspired him with a wild desire to become a Turk. The young
man flung himself down in a dark corner, and never opened his lips. It
was impossible for him to answer that irritating voice with fitting
devotion. He fell to imagining what the coming interview would be like,
and preparing caustic answers.

When the Rosary was finished the Marchesa waited a moment and then
pronounced the words consecrated by long usage--

"Carlotta, Friend."

It was the duty of Carlotta, the Marchesa's old maid, to take Friend in
her arms, and carry him off to bed, as soon as the Rosary was finished.

"He is here, Signora Marchesa," said Carlotta.

But Friend, thou