rd beat the drum of his breast as a signal before he fell flat on
the floor.

From behind his wailful voice the gentle knocking was heard running on.
It had never ceased; it was insistent! Crossing himself desperately,
Stefano slid back the bolts, then paused, then turned the key, then
paused again to breathe hard, his hand upon the latch. He threw his head
forward with a gesture of abandonment to what must be, flung wide the
door, and dropped upon his two knees.

Against a mild radiance, softer than any lamp could shed, was a tall
shrouded woman's figure. They saw the round of her cloaked head, they
saw the white stream of her under-robe run from a peak at her bosom in a
broadening path to her feet. They saw the pure grey moon of her face,
guessed by the dark rings where her eyes should be, watched with quicker
awe the slow movement of her arms, lifted their own to what she held up,
and to the running under-current of the two sobbing drabs muttered in
one voice their remembered adoration.

The tall shepherd rose up by the help of the table, swayed and spoke. No
one knew his voice again, hollow as it was like the sea-grumble.

"O Holiest, O Rose, O Stem of Sharon, O Tree of Carmel!" said he. "What
wouldest thou with us sinners?"

And the woman at the door said, "My friends, I have no roof to my head;
will you take me in? I am hungry; have you no meat for my child and me?"

The host in Stefano jogged the sinner to speak. "Surely, surely, sweet
Lady! Surely, surely. I entreat your Graciousness to enter, to step in,
to accommodate, to sit down, to be pleased to be easy, to--to--to--"
inspiration failed him--"to sit down, in short," was his lame
conclusion. His sweat (as he said next day) would have blinded any other
man.

Through the backing ranks of the scared company--Robaccia leaning face
to the wall, sobbing her heart out; Picagente, the hairy brigand,
breathing short and hard; the shepherd, glorified, exalted, bursting
with prophecy; two thieves at their prayers and a wanton taking the
words from them--through such an assembly the Lady of the Peach-Tree
(who else, pray?) walked to the table. A soft grey light from without
filled the room; there was no need of a lamp, nor did any eye then on
watch fail to see all that followed. Bread and wine were served by
Stefano on bent knee; bread and wine (but sparingly) did the Lady eat
from cup and platter. That cup, that platter, encased in gold leaves and
crusted with