at seven? At eight?"

"No, not so soon, but I want you to have this consolation at once." In
a small sitting-room at the villa, Giovanni Selva, after consulting his
watch, said to his wife, "Go, now."

It had been arranged that Maria and Noemi should accompany Jeanne to see
Benedetto. Noemi stretched out her hands to her brother-in-law.

"Giovanni," she said, trembling, "I have some news to give him
concerning my soul. Do not be offended if I tell him first."

Jeanne guessed the nature of the news Noemi had for the dying man: her
conversion to Catholicism, in the near future. All the strength she had
gathered in herself for the supreme moment now forsook her. She embraced
Noemi, and burst into tears. The Selvas strove to encourage her,
mistaking the cause of her tears. Between her sobs she entreated them
to go, to go; she herself could not possibly go. Only Noemi understood.
Jeanne would not come because she had guessed, because she could not
do the same. She besought her, she entreated her, and whispered to her,
holding her in an embrace: "Why will you not yield, at this moment?"

Jeanne, still sobbing, answered,

"Ah! you understand me!" And because Noemi protested that now she would
not go, it was Jeanne's turn to entreat her to do so, to go at once; not
to delay giving him this consolation. She, herself, could not go, could
not, could not! It was impossible to move her. A servant came to call
Selva. Maria and Noemi went out. When she was alone Jeanne was tempted,
for a moment, to hasten after them, to yield, to go also, and say the
joyful word to him. She fell upon her knees, and stretched out her arms,
almost as if he were standing before her, and sobbed: "Dear one, dear
one! How could I deceive you?" She had often struggled against her
own unbelief, and always in vain. A surrender to faith through sudden
impulse would not be lasting, that she knew.

"Why will you not have me alone?" she groaned again, still on her knees.
"Why will you not have me alone? That pious consciences may not be
scandalised? That my despair may not trouble you? Why will you not have
me alone? How can I say, before them, what is within me? You who are
gentle as your Lord Jesus, why will you not have me alone? Oh!"

She started to her feet, convinced that if Piero heard her, he would
answer, "Yes, come!" She stood a moment as if turned to stone, her hands
pressed to her forehead; then she moved slowly, like one walking in her
sleep,