, and moved the grass about him.

"Is it Thou?" he groaned. "Is it Thou, is it Thou?"

The wind was silent.

Benedetto pressed his clenched hands to his cheeks, raised his head,
and, resting his elbows on the rock, listened, for what he knew not.
Sighing he rose to a sitting posture. God will not speak to him. His
weary soul is silent, barren of thought. Time creeps slowly on. To
refresh itself, the weary soul makes an effort to recall the last part
of the vision, its soaring flight through a stormy nocturnal sky to meet
descending angels. And he reflects dimly: "If this fate awaits me,
why should I repine? Though I be tempted I shall not be conquered, and
though I be conquered still God will raise me up again. Neither is it
necessary to ask what His will is concerning me. Why not go down, and
sleep?"

Benedetto rose, his head heavy with leaden weariness. The sky was hidden
by thick clouds as far as the hills of Jenne, where the valley of the
upper Anio turns. Benedetto could hardly distinguish the black shadow
of the Francolano opposite, or the livid, rocky slope at his feet. He
started down, but stopped after a few steps. His legs would not support
him, a rush of blood set his face aflame. He had scarcely broken his
fast for thirty hours, having eaten only a crust of bread at noon. He
felt millions of pins pricking him, felt the violent beating of his
heart, felt his mind becoming clouded. What was that tangle of serpents
winding themselves about his feet, in the disguise of innocent grasses?
And what sinister demon was that, waiting for him down there, crouching
on all fours on a rock, disguised as a bush and ready to jump upon him?
Were not the demons waiting for him at the monastery also? Did they not
nest in the openings of the great tower? Was there not a black flame
flashing in those openings? No, no, not now; now they were staring at
him like half-closed and mocking eyes. Was this the rumbling of the
Anio? No, rather the roaring of the triumphant abyss. He did not
entirely credit all he saw and heard, but he trembled, trembled like a
reed in the wind, and the millions of pins were moving over his whole
body. He tried to free his feet from the tangle of serpents, and did not
succeed. From terror he passed to anger: "I _must_ be able to do it!"
he exclaimed aloud. From the gloomy gorge of Jenne, the dull rumble of
thunder answered him. He glanced in that direction. A flash of lightning
rent the clouds and dis