, and was sad and discontented--not with herself, for was she
not Pelagia the perfect?--but with these strange fancies which came
into other people's heads.--Why should not every one be as happy as they
could? And who knew better than she how to be happy, and to make others
happy?....

'Look at that old monk standing on the pavement, Amalric! Why does he
stare so at me? Tell him to go away.'

The person at whom she pointed, a delicate-featured old man, with a
venerable white beard, seemed to hear her; for he turned with a sudden
start, and then, to Pelagia's astonishment, put his hands before his
face, and burst convulsively into tears.

'What does he mean by behaving in that way? Bring him here to me this
moment! I will know!' cried she, petulantly catching at the new object,
in order to escape from her own thoughts.

In a moment a Goth had led up the weeper, who came without demur to the
side of Pelagia's mule.

'Why were you so rude as to burst out crying in my face?' asked she
petulantly.

The old man looked up sadly and tenderly, and answered in a low voice,
meant only for her ear--

'And how can I help weeping, when I see anything as beautiful as you are
destined to the flames of hell for ever?'

'The flames of hell?' said Pelagia, with a shudder. 'What for?'

'Do you not know?' asked the old man, with a look of sad surprise. 'Have
you forgotten what you are?'

'I? I never hurt a fly!'

'Why do you look so terrified, my darling? What have you been saying to
her, you old villain?' and the Amal raised his whip.

'Oh! do not strike him. Come, come to-morrow, and tell me what you
mean.'

'No, we will have no monks within our doors, frightening silly women.
Off, sirrah! and thank the lady that you have escaped with a whole
skin.' And the Amal caught the bridle of Pelagia's mule, and pushed
forward, leaving the old man gazing sadly after them.

But the beautiful sinner was evidently not the object which had brought
the old monk of the desert into a neighbourhood so strange and ungenial
to his habits; for, recovering himself in a few moments, he hurried on
to the door of the Museum, and there planted himself, scanning earnestly
the faces of the passers-out, and meeting, of course, with his due share
of student ribaldry.

'Well, old cat, and what mouse are you on the watch for, at the hole's
mouth here?'

'Just come inside, and see whether the mice will not singe your whiskers
for you....'

'Here i