d, the hill itself; shrill cries of gladness,
swift wings of tiny birds broke through the green on all sides, and to
his lips the words rose spontaneously:

"I am coming!"

III.
Jeanne and Noemi reached the monastery at ten o'clock. A few paces from
the gate Jeanne was seized with a violent palpitation. She would have
liked to visit the garden before the convent, the urchin from
Subiaco having told her that the monks of Santa Scolastica had a fine
kitchen-garden, and that some people belonging to them worked in it--an
old man from Subiaco and a young stranger. Now, it was out of the
question. Pale, exhausted, and leaning on Noemi's arm, she, with
difficulty, dragged herself as far as the door, where a beggar stood,
waiting for his bowl of soup. Fortunately Fra Antonio opened the door
before Noemi had time to ring, and she entreated him to bring a chair
and a glass of water for her friend, who was feeling unwell. Frightened
at the sight of Jeanne, so deathly pale, and drooping against her
companion's shoulder, the humble old lay-brother placed the bowl of soup
he had brought for the beggar in Noemi's hands, and hastened away in
search of the chair and the water. Thanks partly to the droll spectacle
the astonished Noemi presented, as she stood holding the bowl of
soup, partly to the rest--the water, the sight of the ancient cloister
sleeping so peacefully, and the reassertion of her own will--a few
minutes sufficed to restore Jeanne sufficiently. Fra Antonio went to
call the _Padre foresterario_, to act as guide to the visitors.

"Tell him we are the two ladies staying at Signor Selva's house," said
Noemi.

Don Clemente appeared, blushing in the virginal purity of his soul
because Jeanne was unaware that he knew her story, as he might have
blushed had he been committing some fraud. He mistook Noemi, who came
forward first, for Signora Dessalle. Tall, slim, and elegant, Noemi
might well pass for a siren; she did not, however, look a day over five
and twenty, and therefore could not be the woman of whose adventures
Benedetto had told him. But the Benedictine was incapable of such
calculations, and Noemi was anxious to satisfy herself that Fra Antonio
had fulfilled his mission faithfully.

"Good morning, Padre," she said in her pretty voice, to which the
foreign accent lent additional charm. "We met last night. You were just
leaving Signor Selva's house."

Don Clemente bent his head slightly. Noemi had really h