pulpit on the left, where the older man encouraged the shrinking
disputant to mount the stair.

There was a murmur of astonishment as the young face appeared in the
tribunal of that grave assembly.

"Impossible! It is only a child!"

It was, in truth, a strange picture; this child of thirteen, small and
delicate for his years, yet with a face of singular freshness and
gravity, his youthfulness heightened by cassock and cowl--a unique,
simple figure, against the bizarre magnificence of the background, the
central point of interest for that learned and brilliant assembly, as he
stood there above the beautiful kneeling angel who held the Book of the
Law, just under the pulpit.

For a moment he seemed unable to face his audience, then, with an
effort, he raised his hand, nervously pushing back the white folds of
his unaccustomed cowl, and casting a look of perplexity over the sea of
faces before him; but the expression of trouble slowly cleared away as
his eyes met those of a friar, grave and bent, who had stepped out from
the company of the Servi and fixed upon the boy a steadying gaze of
assurance, triumph, and command. It was Fra Gianmaria, who was known
throughout Venice for his great learning.

"Pierino!" broke from the mother, in a tone of quick emotion, as she saw
her boy for the first time in the dress of his order, which thrust, as
it were, the claims of her motherhood quite away; it was so soon to
surrender all the beautiful romance of mother and child, so soon to have
done with the joy of watching the development which had long outstripped
her leadership, so soon to consent to the absolute parting of the ways!

She had not willed it so, and she was weary from the struggle.

But the boy was satisfied; the presence of his stern and learned mentor
sufficed to restore his composure; he did not even see his mother's face
so near him, piteous in its appeal for a single glance to confess his
need of her.

"Nay, have no fear," Don Ambrogio counseled, his face glowing with
pride; "the boy is a wonder."

The good Fra Giulio, turning back from the pulpit stairs, saw the faces
of the two whose hearts were hanging on the words of the child; he went
directly to them and sat down beside Donna Isabella, for he had a tender
heart and he guessed her trouble. "I also," he said, leaning over her
and speaking low, "I also love the boy, and while I live will I care for
him. He shall lack for nothing."

It was a promise o