e place? At eight o'clock,
Leu thought. When Leu once began talking it was always hard for her to
leave off, and perhaps now she was afraid of staying in the kitchen all
alone. "Her papa!" she added, before going out. "Her dear papa! It isn't
more than a week ago that I came here with some chestnuts for the
Signora, and that blessed little creature, who spoke so well, for all
the world like a lawyer, said to me: 'Do you know, Leu, my papa is
coming to Lugano very soon, and I am going to see him.' Oh, dear! What a
dreadful thing!"

His tears flowed afresh. Ah, God had taken the child to save her from
the errors of the world. God had punished Luisa for her errors, but was
not this awful punishment intended for him also? Was he not guilty also?
Ah, yes! Very, very guilty! A clear vision of his past life rose before
him, his life, barren of all useful labour, full of vanities,
corresponding ill with the beliefs he professed, a life which rendered
him responsible for Luisa's unbelief. The world accounted him virtuous
for certain qualities he possessed through no merit of his own, for they
were inborn in him, and he felt that for this very reason God's judgment
of him must be doubly severe; for God had endowed him richly, and he had
gathered no fruit. Once more he fell upon his knees and humbly accepted
his punishment, in the desolate contrition of his heart, in his burning
desire to expiate, to purify himself, to become worthy of re-union with
Maria at last.

A long, long time he prayed and wept. At last he went out to the
terrace. Above Galbiga and the hills of the Lake of Como the sky was
growing light; day was breaking. From neighbouring Boglia a cold north
wind was blowing. From far and near, from the lake shore, from the lofty
bosom of the valley, bells rang out. The thought that Maria and
Grandmother Teresa were together and happy, rose suddenly, clear and
sweet in Franco's heart. It seemed to him the Lord was saying to him: "I
afflict thee, but I love thee. Wait, be steadfast, and thou shalt
know." The bells chimed far and near, from the lake shore and from the
lofty bosom of the valley. The sky grew ever brighter above Galbiga and
towards the Lake of Como, along the steep, black profile of the Picco di
Cressogno; and the sweep of smooth water down there in the East, between
the great shadows of the mountains, was like a shining pearl. The sprays
of the passion-flower vine, touched by the north wind, waved silently