r still visible,
crossing himself as he did so--"a notable miracle was performed.
Before I relate it, let us adore the goodness of the Blessed Virgin,
from whom all good gifts come."

Cavaliere Trenta was on his knees before he had done speaking; again
he fervently crossed himself, reciting the "Maria Santissima." Enrica
bowed her head, and timidly knelt beside him; Baldassare bent his
knees, but, remembering that his trousers were new, and that they
might take an adverse crease that could never be ironed out, he did
not allow himself to touch the floor; then, with open eyes and ears,
he rose and stood waiting for the cavaliere to proceed. Baldassare
was uneducated and superstitious. The latter quality recommended him
strongly to Trenta. He was always ready to believe every word the
cavaliere uttered with unquestioning faith. At the mention of a church
legend Count Marescotti turned away with an expression of disgust, and
leaned against a pillar, his eyes fixed on Enrica.

The cavaliere, having risen from his knees, and carefully dusted
himself with a snowy pocket-handkerchief, took Enrica by the hand, and
placed her in such a position that the sunshine, striking through the
windows of the nave, fell full upon the monumental stone before them.

"My Enrica," he said, in a subdued voice, "and you, Baldassare"--he
motioned to him to approach nearer--"you are both young. Listen to me.
Lay to heart what an old man tells you. Such a miracle as I am about
to relate must touch even the count's hard heart."

He glanced round at Marescotti, but it was evident he was chagrined by
what he saw. Marescotti neither heard him, nor even affected to do
so. Trenta's voice in the great church was weak and piping--indistinct
even to those beside him. Finding the count unavailable either
for instruction or reproof, the cavaliere shook his head, and his
countenance fell. Then he turned his mild blue eyes upon Enrica,
leaned upon his stick, and commenced:

"In the sixth century, the flagstones in this portion of the nave were
raised for the burial of a distinguished lady, a member of the Manzi
family; but oh! stupendous prodigy!"--the cavaliere cast up his eyes
to heaven, and clasped his dimpled hands--"no sooner had the coffin
been lowered into the vault prepared for it, than the corpse of the
lady of the Manzi family sat upright in the open bier, put aside the
flowers and wreaths piled upon her, and uttered these memorable and
never-to