st. "No one would think of driving such a short distance,"
he insisted. "The sun was not hot, and the streets were all in shade."
The cavaliere retorted that "it was too hot for any lady to walk,"
swung his stick menacingly in the air, called Baldassare "an
imbecile," and peremptorily ordered him to call a _fiacre_. Baldassare
turned scarlet in the face, and rudely refused to move.

"He was not a servant," he said. "He would do nothing unless treated
like a gentleman."

This was spoken as he hurled what he intended to be a tremendous
glance of indignation at the cavaliere. It produced no effect
whatever. With an exasperating smile, the cavaliere again desired
Baldassare to do as he was bid, or else to go home. The count
interposed, a _fiacre_ was called, in which they all seated
themselves.

* * * * *

San Frediano, a basilica in the Lombard style, is the most ancient
church in Lucca. The mid-day sun now flashed full upon the front, and
lighted up the wondrous colors of a mosaic on a gold ground, over the
entrance. At one corner of the building a marble campanile, formed by
successive tiers of delicate arcades, springs upward into the azure
sky. Flocks of gray pigeons circled about the upper gallery (where
hang the bells), or rested, cooing softly in the warm air, upon the
sculptured cornice bordering the white arches. It was a quiet scene
of tranquil beauty, significant of repose in life and of peace in
death--the church, with its wide portals, offering an everlasting home
to all who sought shelter within its walls.

The cavaliere was so impatient to do the honors that he actually
jumped unaided from the carriage.

"This, dear Enrica, is my parish church," he said, as he handed her
out, pointing upward to the richly-tinted pile, which the suns of
many centuries had dyed of a golden hue. "I know every stone in the
building. From a child I have played in this piazza, under these
venerable walls. My earliest prayers were said at the altar of the
Sacrament within. Here I confessed my youthful sins. Here I received
my first communion. Here I hope to lay my bones, when it shall please
God to call me."

Trenta spoke with a tranquil smile. It was clear neither life nor
death had any terrors for him. "The very pigeons know me," he added,
placidly. He looked up to the campanile, gave a peculiar whistle, and,
putting his hand into his pocket, threw down some grains of corn
upon the pavemen