er courage
to turn and run down to join the others, who were disappearing through a
low door. This led into what seemed an immense hall, judging from the
echoes. They passed by heavy stone columns supporting a ceiling in round
Romanesque arches on their way toward the one spot of light which came
from a lucerna that stood on one end of a very long table spread for
supper. They were looking around bewildered for their places, when they
were not a little startled to hear the padre say, "Signore, this is Fra
Lorenzo, my son in the Lord." The signora was of course the least
surprised, for she recognized her apparition. They received a silent
salutation from a young spiritual-looking monk, with the handsomest
face, they afterward agreed, they had ever seen. The four cats, Piro,
and another shaggy monster of a dog completed the company and shared the
visitors' supper, preferring their soup and chicken to the
Saturday-evening fare of the monks of boiled beans and olive oil. The
strangely-mixed party found much to interest each other, and, as the
signora laughed once or twice merrily over the division of the
chicken-bones between the dogs and the cats, she found Fra Lorenzo's
eyes fixed upon her with a look of wonder; at other times he kept his
eyes on his plate and uttered not a word. The chicken was followed by
figs and peaches, cheese and Vino Santo, which the signora drank out of
a tall glass with the arms of the order engraved on it.

When they returned to their _salon_, the padre followed them to say,
"You were surprised at Fra Lorenzo's appearance,--I think a little
startled, too. He is gentle and good as an angel, and this is the first
time he ever inspired fear in any one,--poor boy! He is my nephew, and I
have had him with me ever since his infancy, when his parents died. I am
his guardian, and have made him a priest and Benedictine as the best
thing I could do for him, although his rank and talents would enable him
to play a distinguished _role_ in the world. But, thanks be to God, he
is a devout follower of Christ, and a most useful one. He is now
twenty-five years of age; and I do not think we have a better decipherer
of manuscripts in the Church than he, since he is conversant with most
of the Oriental tongues, although so young. I sometimes fear God will
visit me for bestowing too much affection upon the boy. I strive against
it, but he remains the light of my eyes. If it be a sin, God forgive
me."

As the sign