d that his appearance betokened
perfect health--a slight spareness and sharpness of outline being the
only trace which poverty seemed to have left upon him.

The sub-Prior of San Stefano saw these things; and meditated upon
certain possibilities in the future. He went next day to old Assunta's
funeral, and laid his hand on Dino's shoulder as the boy was turning
disconsolately from his grandmother's grave.

"My child," he said, gently, "you are alone."

"Yes, Father," said Dino, with a stifled sob.

"Will you come with me to the monastery? I think we can find you a home.
You have nowhere to go, poor child, and you will be weary and hungry
before long. Will you come?"

"There is nothing in the world that I should like so well!" cried the
boy, ardently.

"Come then," said the Padre, with one of his subtle smiles. "We will go
together."

He held out his hand, in which Dino gladly laid his hot and trembling
fingers. Then the monk and the boy set out on the three miles walk which
lay between them and the monastery.

On their arrival, Padre Cristoforo left the boy in the cool cloisters
whilst he sought the Prior--a dignitary whose permission would be needed
before Dino would be allowed to stay. There was a school in connection
with the monastery, but it was devoted chiefly to the training of young
priests, and it was not probable that a peasant like Dino Vasari would
be admitted to the ranks of these budding ecclesiastics. The Prior
thought that old Assunta's grandchild would make a good helper for
Giacomo, the dresser of the vines.

"Does that not satisfy you?" said Padre Cristoforo, in a rather peculiar
tone, when he had carried this proposal to Dino, and seen the boy's face
suddenly fall, and his eyes fill with tears.

"The Reverend Fathers are very good," said Dino, in a somewhat
embarrassed fashion, "and I will do all that I can to serve them, and,
if I could also learn to read and write--and listen to the music in the
chapel sometimes--I would work for them all the days of my life."

Padre Cristoforo smiled.

"You shall have your wish, my child," he said, kindly. "You shall go to
the school--not to the vine-dressers. You shall be our son now."

But Dino looked up at him timidly.

"And not the English lady's?" he said.

"What do you know about an English lady, my son?"

"My grandmother talked to me of her. Is it true? She said that I might,
turn out to be an Englishman, after all. She said that Vincenz