r heart, and walked on again.

The herder belonging to the convent, standing at the entrance to the
courtyard where the Ospizio, which shelters pilgrims, is located,
pointed out the door of the garden on the opposite side of the narrow
lane, running between two walls. She asked him if she would find a
certain Benedetto in the garden. In spite of her efforts to control
herself, her voice trembled in anticipation of an affirmative answer.
The herder replied that he did not know, and offered to go and see.
Knocking several times, he called: "Benede! Benede!"

A step at last! Jeanne was leaning against the door-post to keep herself
from falling. O God! if it be Piero, what shall she say to him? The door
opens; it is not Piero but an old man. Jeanne breathes freely again,
glad for the moment. The old man looks at her, astonished, and says to
the herder:

"Benedetto is not here."

Her gladness had already vanished; she felt icy cold; the two men looked
at her curiously, in silence.

"Is this the lady who is looking for Benedetto?" said the old man.

Jeanne did not reply; the herder answered for her, and then he told how
Benedetto had spent the night out of doors; that he had found him at
daybreak, in the grove of the Sacro Speco, wet to the skin. He had
offered him some milk and Benedetto had drunk like a dying man to whom
life is returning.

"Listen, Giovacchino," the herder added, growing suddenly grave. "When
he had drunk he embraced me like this. I was feeling ill; I had not
slept, my head ached, all my bones ached. Well, as he held me in his
arms slight shivers seemed to come from them and creep over me, and then
I felt a sort of comforting heat; and I was content, and as comfortable
all over as if I had had two mouthfuls of the very best spirits in
my stomach! The headache was gone, the pains in the bones were gone,
everything was gone. Then I said to myself: 'By St. Catherine, this man
is a saint!' And a saint he certainly is!"

While he was speaking a poor cripple passed, a beggar from Subiaco.
Seeing a lady, he stopped and held out his hat. Jeanne, completely
absorbed in what the herder was saying, did not notice him, nor did she
hear him when--the herder having ceased speaking--he begged for alms,
for the love of God. She asked the gardener where this Benedetto was to
be found. The man scratched his head, doubtful how to answer. Then the
beggar groaned out in a mournful voice:

"You are seeking Benedetto?