issed him and kissed him again, tenderly.

"Christ tells me that your sins are forgiven, and that you may depart in
peace."

The glistening eyes lighted up with joy. Benedetto called the mother,
who, escaping from Maria's open arms, threw herself upon her son. At
that moment Don Clemente entered, looking exhausted; Giovanni and the
parish priest were with him.

* * * * *

At the priest's house Don Clemente had found an ecclesiastic whom he did
not know, arguing with the parish priest. According to what he said, a
crowd of fanatics were about to carry the girl who had been healed by a
miracle to the church of Sant' Andrea, to return thanks to God. It was
the priest's duty to prevent such a scandal. If the healing of this
girl were not an imposture, neither was it a fact. The would-be
miracle-worker had also preached much rank heresy concerning miracles
and eternal salvation. He had spoken of faith as being a natural virtue;
he had even criticised Christ, who healed the sick. At present he was
preparing another miracle with a second unfortunate victim. A stop must
be put to this! Put a stop to it, indeed! The poor priest who already
perceived the odour of the Holy Office, reflected that it was easy
enough to say "put a stop to it," but how was it to be accomplished? Don
Clemente's arrival at that point gave him a moment of relief. "Now," he
told himself, "he will help me." But, on the contrary, things were worse
than ever. When he had heard Don Clemente's sad message the strange
priest exclaimed:

"You see! That is how these miracles end. You must not enter that
heretic's house with the holy viaticum, unless he has first left it, and
left it never to return."

Don Clemente's face flushed.

"He is not a heretic," said he. "He is a man of God!"

"You say so!" the other retorted.

"And you, consider well!" he added, turning to the parish priest. "But,
after all, you are free to act as you please. It is none of my business.
_A rivederla_!"

Having bowed to Don Clemente, he slipped out of the room, without
another word.

"And now? And now?" groaned the unhappy priest, pressing his hands
to his temples. "That is a terrible man, but I must not betray the
Almighty! Tell me what to do! Tell me what to do!"

Indeed the parish priest had a holy fear of God, but he was also not
without a certain fear (half holy, half human), of Don Clemente, of the
austere conscience which would judge hi