otions.
Fra Paolo was not speaking from the pulpit; he stood beside a table that
had been placed in the nave, and the people gathered close about him, as
children near a father, while he opened a great vellum-bound volume with
massive golden clasps, which his secretary had brought from the library
of the Servi.
"Come nearer," he called to them simply, beckoning with his hand, "so
that all may hear; put the old people and the little ones nearest."
He looked around him, not smiling, but very quiet and patient, as if he
were waiting for the slight confusion to subside; for at first they
pushed each other rudely to get closer.
"There is room for all," he said, "in God's house;" and as he looked
into their faces each felt that it was a word to him, and held his
breath to listen--which suddenly seemed quite easy! The smaller children
nestled contentedly on their mothers' arms, munching some dainty brought
to keep them quiet, and fascinated by the low, clear voice, watched with
round, solemn eyes to see if he would smile; while two or three who were
tall enough to reach just over the edge of the table steadied themselves
by clutching it with their chubby hands, dropping their hold of their
mothers' mantles--for the pages were full of pretty colors, and the
voice of the padre was like a lullaby to keep them still, and they were
not afraid--at all.
Fra Paolo never gave the people many words, but sometimes they were
strong and beautiful, like an old poem, and in their own Venetian--not
in the Latin which had been made for the great ones.
"It was a wonderful book, written long ago," he told them; "before the
Bishop of Altinum fled with his people to Torcello and built the old
Duomo; before Venice began to be."
Many of them did not know there was _anything_ so old as that! They
looked at each other and began to think.
"And it was written for the comfort of every one who loveth God, our
Father, whatever his troubles may be. See what is written here for any
who fear that the consolations of our holy religion shall be taken away.
For that is what you fear?"
They looked at each other, hesitating. "Si, si--yes--" timidly. "No,
no," more bravely.
Fra Paolo smiled.
"No!" they said, distinctly.
"If any of you are afraid," Fra Paolo said, looking full into their
faces as they pressed nearer, "because the fathers of this church have
gone away and left you, there are words in this old book--written long
ago, before
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