ver
think of such things, but I knew him in a moment,--and such a religious
man, that no sooner did he find that we were pilgrims on a holy errand
than he gave orders to have us set free with all honor, and a band of
the best of them to escort us through the mountains; and the people of
the town are all moved to do us reverence, and coming with garlands and
flowers to wish us well and ask our prayers. So let us set forth
immediately."

Agnes followed her grandmother through the long passages and down the
dark, mouldy stair-way to the court-yard, where two horses were standing
caparisoned for them. A troop of men in high peaked hats, cloaked and
plumed, were preparing also to mount, while a throng of women and
children stood pressing around. When Agnes appeared, enthusiastic cries
were heard: "_Viva Jesu!_" "_Viva Maria!_" "_Viva! viva
Jesu! nostro Re!_" and showers of myrtle-branches and garlands fell
around. "Pray for us!" "Pray for us, holy pilgrims!" was uttered eagerly
by one and another. Mothers held up their children; and beggars and
cripples, aged and sick,--never absent in an Italian town,--joined with
loud cries in the general enthusiasm. Agnes stood amid it all, pale and
serene, with that elevated expression of heavenly calm on her features
which is often the clear shining of the soul after the wrench and
torture of some great interior conflict. She felt that the last earthly
chain was broken, and that now she belonged to Heaven alone. She
scarcely saw or heard what was around her, wrapt in the calm of inward
prayer.

"Look at her! she is beautiful as the Madonna!" said one and another,
"She is divine as Santa Catarina!" said others. "She might have been the
wife of our chief, who is a nobleman of the oldest blood, but she chose
to be the bride of the Lord," said others: for Giulietta, with a woman's
love of romancing, had not failed to make the most among her companions
of the love-adventures of Agnes.

Agnes meanwhile was seated on her palfrey, and the whole train passed
out of the court-yard into the dim, narrow street,--men, women, and
children following. On reaching the public square, they halted a moment
by the side of the antique fountain to water their horses. The groups
that surrounded it at this time were such as a painter would have
delighted to copy. The women and girls of this obscure mountain-town had
all that peculiar beauty of form and attitude which appears in the
studies of the antique; a