ra Battista shrivelled visibly.

"O thou craven!" it said, "thou wicked man! what sin can be greater than
thine? If thou hadst done this thing thou ownest to, it had gone better
with thee than now, when thou standest a liar and boaster in a filthy
cause. Wilt thou foul thyself, Battista, and think it honour? I tell
thee that it was more tolerable for that stoned simple wretch than it
shall be for thee; and it were better that men should go unsouled like
the dogs, committing offence with their bodies, than souled horribly
like thee, thou sinner of the mind, idolater of thine own image! Dost
thou yet make slippery the ways of Mount Carmel, Battista? Dost thou yet
hang the pearls which are the tears of Mary about thy neck? It shall be
in such case that Carmel will be her holy hill no more, and those same
pearls turned to leaden bulls to seal thee in Tophet. There is no mercy
for the coward, and none for him that serves false gods. Go forth, thou
groper after vainglory, kennel with the swine!"

The voice ceased. Fra Battista, who had been rocking under its chill
breath, fell with a thud. The bishop adored the altar; the
rest--priests, monks, people alike--broke into "Salve Regina," so loud,
so wild, the very church seemed to shake. At that time the west doors
flung open of themselves, and a roaring wind swept round, disastrous to
candles. A quick flicker of blue flame jagged across the nave; the
thunder came instant, pealing, crackling, braying ruin, fading at last
to a distant grumble; and then the rain. No one got home that night with
a dry skin; but it was Madonna who had quenched the doubting of Fra
Battista, and washed fragrant the memory of Vanna to whomsoever had
loved her once. As her lovers in early days had been many, it follows
that they all forgot in the delight of reminiscence any harsh judgments
she had received.

IX

THE CROWNING PROOF

The week went its way without further miracle; but Verona had supped
full of miracles, and had need to digest. The signs and wonders she had
witnessed, as one soul, in the church of the Carmelites had been so
astonishing that you will easily understand how all little differences
between order and order were forgotten. The root of disturbance--Vanna
and her baby, Fra Battista and his luxurious imaginings, Baldassare and
his addition--were also forgotten. Baldassare was at Mantua, Vanna had
been stoned to death ("martyred" was now the word)--all was well. Fra
Batti