cal dialect and the Gadfly in broken
Italian, intermixed with Spanish words.

"His Eminence! His Eminence is coming out!" shouted the people by the
door. "Stand aside! His Eminence is coming!"

They both stood up.

"Here, father," said Domenichino, putting into the Gadfly's hand a
little image wrapped in paper; "take this, too, and pray for me when you
get to Rome."

The Gadfly thrust it into his breast, and turned to look at the figure
in the violet Lenten robe and scarlet cap that was standing on the upper
step and blessing the people with outstretched arms.

Montanelli came slowly down the steps, the people crowding about him to
kiss his hands. Many knelt down and put the hem of his cassock to their
lips as he passed.

"Peace be with you, my children!"

At the sound of the clear, silvery voice, the Gadfly bent his head, so
that the white hair fell across his face; and Domenichino, seeing the
quivering of the pilgrim's staff in his hand, said to himself with
admiration: "What an actor!"

A woman standing near to them stooped down and lifted her child from the
step. "Come, Cecco," she said. "His Eminence will bless you as the dear
Lord blessed the children."

The Gadfly moved a step forward and stopped. Oh, it was hard! All these
outsiders--these pilgrims and mountaineers--could go up and speak to
him, and he would lay his hand on their children's hair. Perhaps he
would say "Carino" to that peasant boy, as he used to say----

The Gadfly sank down again on the step, turning away that he might not
see. If only he could shrink into some corner and stop his ears to shut
out the sound! Indeed, it was more than any man should have to bear--to
be so close, so close that he could have put out his arm and touched the
dear hand.

"Will you not come under shelter, my friend?" the soft voice said. "I am
afraid you are chilled."

The Gadfly's heart stood still. For a moment he was conscious of nothing
but the sickening pressure of the blood that seemed as if it would tear
his breast asunder; then it rushed back, tingling and burning through
all his body, and he looked up. The grave, deep eyes above him grew
suddenly tender with divine compassion at the sight of his face.

"Stand bark a little, friends," Montanelli said, turning to the crowd;
"I want to speak to him."

The people fell slowly back, whispering to each other, and the Gadfly,
sitting motionless, with teeth clenched and eyes on the ground, felt the
gen