an heroic expression on her face, such as he had never remarked
before; but she said nothing. The veil had been rudely torn from her
eyes; she had seen with horror the defilement and impurity of what she
had ignorantly adored in holy places, and the revelation seemed to have
wrought a change in her whole nature.

"Even you could fight, Agnes," said the knight, "to save your religion
from disgrace."

"No," said she; "but," she added, with gathering firmness, "I could die.
I should be glad to die with and for the holy men who would save the
honor of the true faith. I should like to go to Florence to my uncle. If
he dies for his religion, I should like to die with him."

"Ah, live to teach it to me!" said the knight, bending towards her, as
if to adjust her bridle-rein, and speaking in a voice scarcely audible.
In a moment he was turned again towards the Princess, listening to her.

"So it seems," she said, "that we shall be running into the thick of the
conflict in Florence."

"Yes, but my uncle hath promised that the King of France shall
interfere. I have hope something may even now have been done. I hope to
effect something myself."

Agostino spoke with the cheerful courage of youth. Agnes glanced timidly
up at him. How great the change in her ideas! No longer looking on him
as a wanderer from the fold, an enemy of the Church, he seemed now in
the attitude of a champion of the faith, a defender of holy men and
things against a base usurpation. What injustice had she done him, and
how patiently had he borne that injustice! Had he not sought to warn
her against the danger of venturing into that corrupt city? Those words
which so much shocked her, against which she had shut her ears, were all
true; she had found them so; she could doubt no longer. And yet he had
followed her, and saved her at the risk of his life. Could she help
loving one who had loved her so much, one so noble and heroic? Would
it be a sin to love him? She pondered the dark warnings of Father
Francesco, and then thought of the cheerful, fervent piety of her old
uncle. How warm, how tender, how life-giving had been his presence
always! how full of faith and prayer, how fruitful of heavenly words and
thoughts had been all his ministrations!--and yet it was for him and
with him and his master that Agostino Sarelli was fighting, and against
him the usurping head of the Christian Church. Then there was another
subject for pondering during this night-ri