rance seemed to point. All
his thoughts, with those of his auditors, were upon Madonna of the
Peach-Tree, whom there was nothing, absolutely nothing, to connect with
Fra Battista, his doings and undoings. No one detected this, so Can
Grande may have been inspired. A great to-do, which no one had the
rights of, was followed by mysterious appearances which no one pretended
to understand. What more natural than that one mystery should be allowed
to explain the other?

The bishop having ended, the prior (who was very nervous) began. There
were certainly foxes here and there in the vineyard, wild grapes on the
vines as well as grapes. No community was so holy but that, through
excess of zeal, over-inflamed by charity, it might nurture upon its
bosom a fanged snake. Might he not allude to the detestable and
never-enough-to-be-condemned sin of simony which, as they knew only too
well, had fattened in the Dominican convent at B----? What should he
say of that Friar Minor, the famous preacher of S----, who had been
found dead of a surfeit of melons and white wine? Alas! he brought the
taint of gluttony--a deadly sin--upon his order! Wonderful, then, would
it be in such days as these if the most renowned of all orders and most
venerable, that of Mount Carmel, should pass unscathed through the
tempting fires! Not only wonderful, but in itself a snare. What a
temptation to the sin of pride in the order! What a drawing on of others
(too disposed already) to the sin of envy, to uncharitable speaking--ah,
and to unlovely dealing! Let sin be owned, therefore, since men were
born sinners; but let purgation be done, the wicked member plucked out,
etc.

He passed to the sin of Fra Battista--that promising young
apostle--handled it soberly yet gingerly, hinted extenuating
circumstances--the pride of life, young blood, the snares of women,
Satan's favourite sitting-places, etc.--drew a tear or two from his own
eyes and floods from La Testolina; and then called Fra Battista to come
forth that he might purge himself or be purged by the canon law.

Thus exhorted, Fra Battista, becomingly tonsured, delicately combed,
with an aspect most meek and hands at a pretty droop, came demurely out
of the friars' door into the full light of the chancel. To the bishop he
bowed, to the altar he bent a knee, to his father in religion he bent
both, to the hush in the nave he cast a glance of wistful appeal. It was
truly aimed. They could see nothing of his