r Claudio. I am going to send
for Monsignor Catinari again, and you must tell him the truth this
time. And then we will see what can be done in the case. Don't look so
terrified, child. Do you think that Matteo rules the world?"

Poor little Silvia could not be reassured, for to her other terrors
was now added Monsignor Catinari's possible wrath. To her, men were
objects of terror. The doctrine of masculine supremacy, so pitilessly
upheld in Italy, was exaggerated to her mind by her brother's
character; and though she believed that help was sometimes possible,
she also believed that it often came too late, as in the case of poor
Beatrice Cenci. They might stand between her and Matteo, but if he had
first killed her, what good would it do? She had a fixed idea that he
would kill her.

Monsignor Catinari was indeed much provoked when the signora told him
the true story of the little novice.

"Just see what creatures girls are!" he exclaimed. "How are we to know
if they have a vocation or not? That girl professed herself both
willing and desirous to be a nun."

He did not scold Silvia, however. When he saw her pretty frightened
face his heart relented. "You have told me a good many lies, my
child," he said, "but I forgive you, since they were not intended in
malice. We will say no more about it. I learn from the signora that
this Claudio is a good young man, so the sooner you are married the
better. Cheer up: we will have you a bride by the first week of
November; and if Claudio has such a wonderful voice, he can make his
way in Rome." The reassurances of a man were more effectual than those
of a woman.

"At last I believe! at last I fear no more!" Silvia cried, throwing
herself into the arms of the Signora Fantini when the Monsignor was
gone. "Oh how beautiful the earth is! how beautiful life is!"

"We will then begin immediately to enjoy life," the signora replied.
"Collation is ready, and Nanna has bought us some of the most
delicious grapes. See how large and rich they are! One could almost
slice them. There! these black figs are like honey. Try one now,
before your soup. The macaroni that will be brought in presently was
made in the house--none of your Naples stuff, made nobody knows how or
by whom. What else Nanna has for us I cannot say. She was very secret
this morning, and I suspect that means rice-balls seasoned with
mushrooms and hashed giblets of turkey. She always becomes mysterious
when those are in p