mind you desire. I may be
blind, but I do not feel inclined to ask the Pope for light, or a Luther
either. Nevertheless, if you come to Rome, you will find young men
better disposed than I am, than we are. Come, speak, let us also listen
to you! To-day it is curiosity with us, to-morrow, who knows? we may
feel the right spirit. Come to Rome!"

"Give me your name," said Benedetto.

The other offered him his card. His name was Elia Viterbo. Benedetto
looked at him curiously.

"Yes, indeed," he said, "I am a Jew; but these two baptised ones are no
better Christians than I am. I have, moreover, no religious prejudices."

The interview was over. As they were leaving, the youngest of the party,
the man of the stream of questions, made a last onslaught.

"Tell us, at least, if you believe Catholics should vote on political
questions?"

Benedetto was silent. The other insisted:

"Will you not answer even that question?"

Benedetto smiled.

"_Non expedit_," said he.

There were steps in the ante-room; two gentle taps at the door; the
Selvas entered with Noemi. Maria Selva came in first, and seeing
Benedetto dressed thus, could not restrain a movement of indignation, of
regret, and a soft laugh; then she blushed and wished to speak a word
of protest, but could not find the right one. The tears came to Noemi's
eyes. All four were silent for a moment and understood each other. Then
Giovanni murmured:

"'_Non fu dal vel del cuor giawmai disciolto_'"[*1*];

and pressed the hand of him who in his awkward garments still appeared
august to him.

"But you must not wear these things!" exclaimed Maria, less mystic than
her husband.

Benedetto made a gesture which said, "Let us not speak of that,"
and looked at the master of his master with eyes full of longing and
reverence.

"Are you aware," said he, "how much truth and how much good have come to
me from you?"

Giovanni did not know how strongly he had influenced this man through
Don Clemente. He supposed he had read his books. He was moved, and
in his heart thanked God, who was thus gently showing him that he had
worked some real good in a soul.

"How happy I should have been," Benedetto continued, "to have worked in your garden,

[FN 1: "Of the heart's veil she never was divested."
DANTE'S _Paradiso_, Canto iii.

(Longfellow's translation) ] have sometimes seen you, to
have heard you speak!"

A stifled exclamation escaped Noemi when re