nedictine, who was only obeying orders--it is a rule of the house, you
know--and said, 'Why do you refuse me admission to this shrine? Is it
because I am of the same sex as the mother of your God?' But she didn't
get in for all that. Neither have I crossed the threshold of San
Francisco del Deserto, but I have wandered upon the green in front of
the little chapel; and sat under the trees in contemplation of the sea
and wished--yes, really and truly wished--that I were a barefooted
Franciscan friar with nothing to do but look picturesque in such a
terrestrial paradise.

"What do you think happened when we were there the other day? Now at
last I am coming to it. We were all upon the Campo in front of the
chapel--Violet, Eugene and I; the Angelus had just rung; it was the hour
of all hours in one's lifetime; the deepening twilight--we had the moon
to light us on our homeward way--the inexpressible loveliness of the
atmosphere, the unutterable peace, the unspeakable serenity--the repose
in nature--I cannot begin to express myself!

"Out of the chapel came the Father Superior. He knows us very well, for
we have often visited the island; he always offers us some refreshment,
a cup of mass wine, or a dish of fruit, and so he did on this occasion.
We were in no hurry to leave the shore and so accepted his invitation to
be seated under the trees while he ordered the repast.

"Presently he returned and was shortly followed by a young friar whom we
had never seen before; there are not many of them there--a dozen
perhaps--and their faces are more or less familiar to us, for even we
poor women may kneel without the gratings in their little chapel, and so
we have learned to know the faces we have seen there in the choir. But
this one was quite new to us and so striking; his eyes were ever raised;
he offered us a dish of bread and olives, while the abbot poured our
wine, and the very moment we had served ourselves he quietly withdrew.

"I could think of but one thing--indeed we all thought of it at the same
moment--'tis Browning's--

"'What's become of Waring
Since he gave us all the slip?'"

"You know the lines well enough. Why did we think of it?--because we
were all startled, so startled that the abbot who usually sees us to our
gondola, made his abrupt adieus, on some slight pretext, and the door of
the monastery was bolted fast.

"Oh, me! How long it takes to tell a little tale--to be sure! We knew
that face, the