The disciples, with one voice, begged him to bless them. He sought to
avoid this, saying he did not feel himself worthy.

"I am only the poor blind man, whose eyes Christ has opened with clay."

Don Clemente did not appear to have heard. He knelt down saying, "Bless
me, also!"

With humble obedience Benedetto laid his hand on Don Clemente's head,
said the words of the ritual benediction, and kissed him. He did the
same with all the others, one by one. Each one seemed to feel the breath
of the Spirit flowing into him from that hand. When the priest's turn
came, he murmured:

"Master, and to us?"

The dying man composed himself and replied: "Be poor, live in poverty.
Be perfect. Take no pleasure in titles nor in proud vestments, neither
in personal authority nor in collective authority. Love those who hate
you; avoid factions; make peace in God's name; accept no civil office;
do not tyrannise over souls, nor seek to control them too much; do not
train priests artificially; pray that you may be many, but do not fear
to be few; do not think you need much human knowledge,--you need only
much respect for reason and much faith in the universal and inseparable
Truth."

The last to come forward was Maria Selva. She knelt at a short distance
from the bed. The sick man smiled at her, and motioned to her to rise.

"I have already blessed you in your husband," said he, "I cannot
distinguish you. You are a part of his soul. You are his courage.
Let this courage increase in the painful hours which await him. And,
together, may you be the poetry of Christian love, until the end. Stay
here a little while, both of you."

As the disciples passed out, the room grew darker. The rumbling of
thunder was heard, and the sister went to close the window. First,
however, she glanced into the garden, and exclaimed, "Poor things!"
Benedetto heard, and wished to know what she meant. He was told that
the garden was full of people who had come to see him, and that a heavy
shower was threatening. He begged the Selvas to wait, and the Professor
to allow the people to enter.

A heavy trampling sounded, on the narrow wooden stairs. The door was
thrown open, and several persons entered on tiptoe. In a moment the room
was full. A crowd of bare heads peered in at the door. No one spoke;
all were gazing at Benedetto, and they were reverent and respectful.
Benedetto greeted them with both hands, with widespread arms.

"I thank you," he said. "Pra