he gave a chuckle. "You've an eye, cavaliere, you've
an eye," he cried, his soft body shaking with enjoyment; but before Odo
could make a guess at his meaning their conversation was interrupted by
a sharp call from the litter. The abate at once disappeared in the
crowd, and a moment later the litter had debouched on the grassy
quadrangle before the outer gates of the monastery. This space was set
in beech-woods, amid which gleamed the white-pillared chapels of the Way
of the Cross; and the devouter pilgrims, dispersed beneath the trees,
were ascending from one chapel to another, preparatory to entering the
church.

The quadrangle itself was crowded with people, and the sellers of votive
offerings, in their booths roofed with acacia-boughs, were driving a
noisy trade in scapulars and Agnus Deis, images of the Black Virgin of
Oropa, silver hearts and crosses, and phials of Jordan water warranted
to effect the immediate conversion of Jews and heretics. In one corner a
Carmelite missionary had set up his portable pulpit, and, crucifix in
hand, was exhorting the crowd; in another, an improvisatore intoned
canticles to the miraculous Virgin; a barefoot friar sat selling
indulgences at the monastery gate, and pedlars with trays of rosaries
and religious prints pushed their way among the pilgrims. Young women of
less pious aspect solicited the attention of the better-dressed
travellers, and jugglers, mountebanks and quacks of every description
hung on the outskirts of the square. The sight speedily turned Odo's
thought from his late companion, and the litter coming to a halt he was
leaning forward to observe the antics of a tumbler who had spread his
carpet beneath the trees, when the abate's face suddenly rose to the
surface of the throng and his hand thrust a crumpled paper between the
curtains of the litter. Odo was quick-witted enough to capture this
missive without attracting the notice of his grand-aunts, and stealing a
glance at it, he read--"Cavaliere, I starve. When the illustrious ladies
descend, for Christ's sake beg a scudo of them for the unhappy
Cantapresto."

By this the litter had disengaged itself and was moving toward the outer
gates. Odo, aware of the disfavour with which the theatre was viewed at
Donnaz, and unable to guess how far the soprano's present habit would be
held to palliate the scandal of his former connection, was perplexed how
to communicate his petition to the canonesses. A moment later, howe