about his girdle to find the
beads that hung down from it. He pulled them up to him and laid the
string across his knees; but the crucifix that he could not see he
kept tightly clasped in his hand. His poor, dull, pathetic eyes were
turned to Ramoni who felt again that strange impression that he could
see, as they fixed on his face and stared straight at him without a
movement of their lashes. And Ramoni knew how it was that a man may be
given a finer vision than that of earth, for Father Denfili was
looking where only a saint could look, deep down into the soul of
another.

"Son of the city and the world," he said. "I heard Monsignore call you
that, and he was right. A son of the city and of the world you are;
but alas! less of the city than you know, and more of the world than
you have realized. My son, I am a very old man. Perhaps I have not
long to live; and so it is that I may tell you why I have come to you
to-night." Ramoni started to speak, but the other put out his hand. "I
received you, a little boy, into this Community. No one knows you
better than I do. I saw in you before any one else the gifts that God
had given you for some great purpose. I saw them budding. I knew
before any one else knew that some day you would do a great thing,
though I did not know what it was that you would do. I was a man with
little, but I could admire the man who had much. I had no gifts to lay
before Him, yet I, too, wanted to do a great work. I wanted to make
_you_ my great work. That was my hope. You are the Apostle of Marqua.
I am the Apostle of Ramoni. For that I have lived, always in the fear
that I would be cheated of my reward."

Ramoni turned to him. "Your reward? I do not understand."

"My reward," the old man repeated. "I watched over you, I instructed
you, I prayed for you, I loved you. I tried to teach you by checking
you, the way to govern yourself. I tried to make a channel in your
soul that your great genius might not burst its bonds. I knew that
there was conflict ever within you between your duty to God and what
the world had to offer you--the old, old conflict between the city
and the world. I always feared it. All unknown to you I watched the
fight, and I saw that the world was winning. Then, my son, I sent you
to Marqua."

The old man paused, and his trembling hand wiped away the tears that
streamed down his face. Ramoni did not move. "I am afraid, my son,"
the voice came again, "that you never knew the c