had become vitiated. Benedetto asked them
to raise his head a little. He wanted to see the great pine-tree, with
its top bending towards the Coelian Hill. The dark green crown of the
pine cleft the stormy sky. He gazed at it a long time. When his head
was resting on the pillow once more, he motioned to Dom Clemente to bend
down to him, and whispered almost into his ear:

"Do you know, when they brought me here from the villa I longed to be
laid under the pine-tree, which we see from the window, so that I might
die there. But I thought at once that this was something too strongly
desired, and that it was not good. And besides," he added, smiling,
"after all the habit would have been missing."

A slight movement of Don Clemente's lips revealed to him that he had
brought the habit with him from Subiaco. Benedetto experienced a great
wave of intense inward emotion. He clasped his hands, and remained
silent as long as the inward struggle was going on, the struggle between
the desire that the vision might be fulfilled, and the consciousness
that its fulfilment could not come about naturally. He concentrated his
mind in an act of abnegation to the Divine Will.

"The Lord wishes me to die here," he said. "But still he permits me,
at least, to have the habit on my bed, before I die." Don Clemente bent
over him, and kissed his forehead.

Meanwhile the Selvas were waiting a little way off. Benedetto called
them to him, and told them that he would receive Signora Dessalle in
half an hour, but he begged her not to come alone. She might come
with them. Mayda went out with the Selvas. The sister was dozing. Then
Benedetto asked Don Clemente to go to the Pontiff, afterwards, and to
tell him that the end of the vision had not been fulfilled, that thus
all that had seemed miraculous in his life had vanished and that before
his death he had felt the sweetness of the Pope's blessing.

"And tell him," he added, "that I hope to speak in his heart again."

His breathing was less laboured, but his voice was growing weaker, and
his strength was going with the fever. Don Clemente took his wrist and
held it for some time. Then he rose.

"Are you going for the habit?" Benedetto murmured, with a sweet smile.
The Padre's handsome face flushed. He quickly conquered the human
sentiment which prompted him to prevaricate, and replied:

"Yes, _caro_, I think the hour is come."

"What time is it?"

"Half-past five."

"Do you think it will be