itter marks of the biting cold and scorching heat. The bones of his
shoulders and chest showed all but bare beneath the meagre flesh; and
Despair looked out grim and gaunt from the black cavern of his eyes.

Fra Giovanni approached him, saying:

"Peace be with you!"

But the quarryman made no answer, and did not so much as turn his head.
So Fra Giovanni, thinking he had not heard, repeated:

"Peace be with you!"--and then the same words again for the third time.

At last the quarryman looked up at him sullenly, and growled:

"I shall have no peace till I am dead. Begone, cursed black crow! you
wish me peace; that shows you are a glozing cheat! Go to, and caw to
simpler fools than I! I know very well the quarryman's lot is an utterly
miserable one, and there is no comfort for his wretchedness. I hale out
stones from dawn to dark, and for price of my toil, all I get is a scrap
of black bread. Then when my arms are no longer as strong as the stones
of the mountain, and my body is all worn out, I shall perish of hunger."

"Brother!" said the holy man Giovanni; "it is not just or right you
should hale out so much stone, and win so little bread."

Then the quarryman rose to his feet and pointing,

"Master Monk," said he, "what see you up yonder on the hill?"

"Brother, I see the walls of the City."

"And above them?"

"Above them I see the roofs of the houses, which crown the ramparts."

"And higher still?"

"The tops of the pines, the domes of the Churches and the Belltowers."

"And higher still?"

"I see a Tower overtopping all the rest, and crowned with battlements.
It is the Tower of the Podesta."

"Monk, what see you above the battlements of that Tower?"

"I see nothing, brother, above the battlements save the sky."

"But I," cried the quarryman, "I see upon that Tower a hideous giant
brandishing a club, and on the club is inscribed: OPPRESSION. Yea!
Oppression is lifted up above the citizens' heads on the Great Tower of
the Magistrates and the City's Laws."

And Fra Giovanni answered:

"What one man sees, another cannot see, and it may be the horrid shape
you describe is set on the Tower of the Podesta yonder, in the city of
Viterbo. But is there no remedy for the ills you endure, my brother? The
good St. Francis left behind him on this earth so full a fountain of
consolation that all men may draw refreshment therefrom."

Then the quarryman spoke after this fashion:

"Men have said, 'This moun