chool-mistress heard Benedetto ask the muleteer to bring him a
little water from Jenne, for the sake of charity. The two men were still
talking, but she sped away, without waiting to hear more.

After a brief consultation with the muleteer, Benedetto had consented
to ride down to where Signora Selva was waiting. Left alone, he seated
himself near the cross, and waited for the man to return with the water
and the parasol. The crescent moon was rising, gilding the bright sky,
above the hills of Arcinazzo; the evening was warm and breathless.
Benedetto felt his temples throb and burn; his breath came quick and
short, but he suffered no pain. The sweet-scented grass of the field,
the scattered trees, the great shadowy hills, all, to him, was alive,
was filled with religion; all was sweet with a mystery of adoring love
which bent even the crescent moon towards the heights in the opalescent
sky. Don Giuseppe Flores whispered in his heart that it would be sweet
to die thus with the day, praying in unison with the innocent things.

Hurried steps were heard in the direction of Jenne. They stopped a short
distance from him. A little girl came towards Benedetto, timidly offered
him a bottle of water and a glass, and then turned and fled. Benedetto,
astonished, called her to him. She came slowly, shyly, and did not
answer when he asked her name, her parents' name. A voice said:

"She is the innkeeper's child."

Benedetto recognised the voice and the person also, though the moonlight
was pale; she had remained at a distance, prompted by the same sense of
delicacy which had moved her to bring the child with her.

"I thank you," said he. She came a little nearer, holding the child by
the hand, and asked softly:

"Do you know the priests have been talking to the dead man's mother? Do
you know the woman now accuses you of killing her son?"

Benedetto replied with some severity in his tone:

"Why do you tell me this?"

She saw she had displeased him by repeating this accusation, and
exclaimed in distress;

"Oh! forgive me!"

Presently she added:

"May I ask you a question?"

"Speak."

"Shall you never return to Jenne?"

"Never."

The woman was silent. They could hear steps approaching in the distance;
it was the muleteer and his mule. She said in a lower tone:

"For pity's sake, one word more! How do you picture to yourself the
future life? Do you believe we shall meet those we have known in this
life?"

If the mo