from Brother
Dino's hand and threw the light suddenly upon the young man's impassive
countenance. Dino raised his great, serious eyes to the Prior's face,
and then dropped them to the ground. Otherwise not a muscle of his face
moved. He was the living image of submission.

"Have you seen him before?" said Padre Cristoforo.

"Twice, Reverend Father. Once on the boat between Cologne and Mainz; and
once, for a moment only, in the quadrangle of the Cathedral at Mainz."

"And then did he bear his present name?"

For a moment Dino's mouth twitched uneasily. A faint colour crept into
his cheeks. "Reverend Father," he said, hesitatingly, "I did not ask his
name."

The priest raised the lamp to the level of his head, and again looked
penetratingly into his pupil's face. There was a touch of wonder, of
pity, perhaps also of some displeasure, expressed in this fixed gaze. It
lasted so long that Dino turned a little pale, although he did not
flinch beneath it. Finally, the Prior lowered the lamp, gave it back to
him, and walked away in silence, with his head lowered and his hands
behind his back. Dino followed to light him down the dark corridors, and
at the door of the Prior's cell, fell on his knees, as the custom was in
the monastery, to receive the Prior's blessing. But, either from
forgetfulness or some other reason which passed unexplained, Padre
Cristoforo entered and closed the door behind him, without noticing the
young man's kneeling figure. It was the first time such an omission had
occurred since Dino came to San Stefano. Was it merely an omission and
not a punishment? Dino had, for the first time in his life, evaded a
plain answer to a question, and concealed from Padre Cristoforo
something which Padre Cristoforo would certainly have thought that he
ought to know. Had Padre Cristoforo divined the truth?

According to the notions current amongst Italians, and particularly
amongst many members of their church, Dino felt himself justified in
equivocating in a case where absolute truth would not have served his
purpose. His conscience did not reproach him for want of truthfulness,
but it did for want of confidence in Padre Cristoforo. For he loved
Padre Cristoforo; and Padre Cristoforo loved him.

Brian Luttrell's illness was a long and severe one. He lay insensible
for some time, and awoke to wild delirium, which lasted for many days.
The Brothers of San Stefano nursed him with the greatest care, and it
was obser