d, wondering more and more what was coming, and not daring to
guess. Neither spoke.

'I am going to lay the whole matter before the Cardinal Vicar at
once,' Monsignor Saracinesca continued calmly. 'I can be with him in
twenty minutes, and I am going to tell him the plain truth. I do not
think that any nun was ever more true to her vows than Sister Giovanna
has been since your return. But there is a limit beyond which fidelity
to an obligation may bring ruin and even death on some one whom the
promise did not at first concern. When the limit is reached, it is the
plain duty of those who have received that promise to relieve the
maker of it from its observance, even though not asked to do so. That
is what I am going to say to the Cardinal Vicar in half-an-hour. Are
you satisfied?'

Sister Giovanna sank sideways upon the chair, with her arm resting on
the back of it, and she hid her face in her sleeve.

'Will the Cardinal listen to you?' asked Giovanni, his voice unsteady
with emotion.

'What I recommend is usually done,' answered the prelate, without a
shade of arrogance, but with the quiet certainty of a man in power.
'What I ask of you is, to submit at once to the operation that alone
can save you, on the strength of my assurance that I am going to do my
utmost to obtain what you desire.'

'It is hard to believe!' Giovanni exclaimed, almost to himself.

The nun moved her head silently from side to side without lifting her
face from her arm.

'You can believe me,' Monsignor Saracinesca answered. 'I give you my
solemn promise before God, and my word of honour before men, that I
will do the utmost in my power to succeed. Do you believe me?'

Giovanni held out his sound hand. The churchman came nearer and took
it.

'Will you risk the operation on that?' he asked.

The light of a profound gratitude illuminated the young soldier's
tired face, and his fingers pressed Monsignor Saracinesca's
spasmodically; but his voice was quiet when he spoke.

'Sister Giovanna----'

'Yes?'

The nun looked up suddenly and drew a sharp breath, for her joy was
almost agonising.

'Will you kindly go and tell Doctor Pieri that I am ready?'

The nun rose with a spring and was at the door in an instant, and in
her heart rang such a chorus of glory and rejoicing as not even the
angels have heard since the Morning Stars sang together.

* * * * *

Of her, I think the most rigid cannot say that she h