ng at
Luisa, his face and person immovable. He spoke with his hand only, with
his soul in palm and fingers, he spoke the most varied, passionate
language, consisting of soft caresses, of embraces, of tenderness and
ardour. From time to time she would endeavour to gently withdraw her
hand, and then he would clasp it violently. His gaze was fixed on the
altar, and he held his head erect as if absorbed in the music of the
organ, in the voice of the priest, in the singing of the congregation.
As a matter of fact he was not following the prayers, but he felt the
Divine Presence, was experiencing an ecstasy, a fervour of love, of
pain, of hope in God. Luisa had taken his hand in the belief that he was
praying, that all his fears, all his doubts were stirring in his soul.
She had indeed wished to inspire him with courage, convinced that this
painful step was best for him. She only half understood the pressure
that answered her; it seemed to her a passionate protest against this
separation, and although this was most sweet to her, she could not
approve of it, and so from time to time she strove to withdraw her hand.
At the moment of the Elevation it was he who withdrew his, out of
respect. Then he was obliged to take Maria in his arms, for she had
fallen asleep, and slept on, her head on her father's shoulder,
displaying half of a little, peaceful face. She, his darling, did not
know that her father was going so far away, and his heart was filled
with tender yearning towards that little, warm treasure, which breathed
upon it, towards that tiny head, which had the perfume of a little wild
bird. He imagined himself already gone, imagined that she was seeking
for him, was crying, and then a desire to press her closer ran through
his arms, a desire he quickly checked for fear of waking her.

It had stopped snowing when they left the church.

"Wind! Wind!" said Ismaele, coming towards them.

"I shall walk! I shall walk!" groaned Cia, who had a great horror of the
lake. Meanwhile the crowd issuing from the church pushed and dispersed
the group, and carried them down the steps. The six travellers and the
boatmen met again in the square of S. Mamette and here Donna Ester
declared that, as she was not feeling very well, she must forego the
punch, and that she would walk home with Cia.

Franco, Luisa, and the Professor saw it would be useless to insist, and
the two women started towards Oria escorted by Ismaele, who was to come
back