ulness, until she had grown to be satisfied with the
companionship of two gentle women artists, who, absorbed in their
vocation, walked in God's ways and were blessed with peace and
happiness.

After each had found her place and name in the padre's pure, soft Tuscan
accent, he led the way to the convent door, apologizing for the meagre
hospitality he could offer them. "Would the signore like some bread and
wine before supper?" What could they know of the hours in an abbey,
where it was an almost unheard-of distinction to be received as personal
guests, tourists in general having their own refectory set apart for
them during their stay? and so they declined. They had by this time
reached a low, arched side-door, which grated on its hinges after the
padre had turned the huge key in the rusty lock and opened it. They
entered a wide stone vestibule, and found themselves opposite another
arched door set in arabesque stone carvings: the flags echoed under
their feet as they turned to the right and traversed a low, vaulted
passage that ended in an open cloister. An arched gallery ran round the
four sides, held up by slender, dark stone pillars, above which was a
row of small arched cell windows. The court was paved with flags, and in
the centre was a well, divested of pulley and rope. An impression of
melancholy began to weigh upon the guests, when a great shaggy dog came
springing toward them, barking. The padre quieted him with, "Down, Piro!
down!" adding, "He is very good, though his manner is a little rough: he
is not used to ladies. But he will not be so impolite again, I am sure."

"Oh, I hope he will," said Julia: "it is delightful to see him bound
about here, where it is so strange and quiet."

They traversed one side of the gallery, another low, vaulted corridor,
and came to another cloister, with painted walls, more arches, more
columns, lighter and more graceful, above which, around the three sides,
were two rows this time of cell windows; a beautiful open vaulted
gallery filled the third side, and was carried up through the second
story. Here was another well, out of which ivy-branches had grown and
twined until the curb was one mass of dark-green, shining vines lying on
a bed of moss. Presently they came to a broad stone staircase, at the
head of which "_Silenzio_" was written over an archway that led into a
corridor so long and wide as to seem a world of empty space; on either
side was an unending row of doors,