d to carry on the master's work, Di Leyni belonged to their
ranks. In Giovanni Selva they admired and respected the man admired and
respected by their master, but they stood in awe of him. They had now
been waiting some time in the avenue of orange-trees, expecting him, for
they were ready to go to the master's room, as soon as Signor Giovanni
should arrive. The eyes of many of them were full of tears. As the
Selvas approached, all took off their hats in silence. Giovanni started
towards the small house, followed by the whole group. His wife came
last. One of the young men motioned to her to pass on in front, but she
would not, and he did not insist. It was neither the place nor the
hour for ceremony. Maria felt that these men were called before her, to
continue Benedetto's work, after his death. They walked in silence, and
with bare heads, although it was raining; Selva as the others. Mayda
received them on the threshold. On his return from the University he
had heard the news of Benedetto's removal to the small house, with an
outburst of wrath. He would not admit it to the sister, to the gardener,
or to the servants, but when he looked at the list of temperatures,
taken every half-hour, he was bound to admit, in his heart that this act
of folly had had no sensible effect upon the course of the fever. Upon
being asked if they should stay in the room only a short time, and
endeavour to have the sick man speak as little as possible, he answered:

"Do whatever he wishes. It is the feast of a condemned man!"

He went up the wooden stairs before them.

"Your friends," he said, entering the room. He allowed them all to come
in, and then closed the door. His hands clasped behind him, he leaned
against the doorpost, watching Benedetto, and the tall, dark figure
never moved from that spot during all the time that Benedetto kept his
followers with him.

Benedetto's face was flushed, his eyes glittered, and his breathing was
quick. He greeted his friends with a "Thank you!" which quivered with
happy and intense excitement, and which made some one sob. Then he
lifted his hand as if begging them to be quiet. After receiving the
Viaticum, his one prayer had been to be able to speak with his favourite
disciples, and that God would give him words of truth, with the strength
to pronounce them. Now he felt that the Spirit filled his breast.

"Come near to me," he said.

The fair-haired youth, his face stained with silent tears, pas