may recognise by your fruits that you
belong to Christ."

Don Clemente, distressed by his laboured breathing, bent over him, and,
in a low voice, begged him to rest. Benedetto took his hand, and pressed
it, and was silent for a few seconds. Then raising his great shining
eyes to Don Clemente's face, he said, _"Hora ruit."_

And he resumed:

"Let each one perform his religious duties as the Church prescribes,
according to strict justice and with perfect obedience. Do not give your
union a name, or speak collectively, or draw up rules, beyond those I
have dictated! Love one another, love is enough. Communicate with one
another. Many are doing the same work in the Church for which you are
preparing yourselves, through the moral preparations I have prescribed
for you; I mean the work of purifying the faith, and imbuing life with
the purified faith. Honour them and learn from them, but do not allow
them to become members of your union unless they come to you of their
own free will, and pour their superfluity into the common fund. This
shall be the sign that they are sent unto you by God."

Here Benedetto paused, and gently begged Giovanni Selva to come nearer.

"I wish to see you," he said. "What I have said and, above all, what I
am going to say, was born of you."

He stretched out his hand, and taking Don Clemente's hand, he added:

"The Father knows it. Each should feel God's presence within himself,
but each should feel it also in the other, and I feel it so strongly in
you. Yes," he continued, turning to Don Clemente, as if appealing to
his authority, "this is the true foundation of human fraternity, and
therefore those who love their fellow men and believe they are cold
toward God are nearer the Kingdom than many who imagine they love God,
but who do not love their fellow-men."

The young priest who was standing, almost timidly, behind Selva,
exclaimed, "Oh! yes, yes!" Selva bowed his head with a sigh. The tall,
dark figure leaning against the doorpost did not move, but the gaze
fixed on Benedetto became inexpressibly intense, tender and sad.

Don Clemente again bent over the invalid, entreating him to pause a
moment, and the sister also begged him to rest. Neither Mayda nor any of
the disciples spoke. Benedetto drank a little water, thanked the sister,
and began to speak once more:

"Purify the faith for grown men, who cannot thrive on the food of
infants. This part of your work is for those who are outsid