s
passed from lip to lip, until finally a man, dressed somewhat after
the ecclesiastical fashion and having a serene and devout face,
replied:--

"He is the one who preached at Lent last year at Santa-Maria del
Sacco. He could have converted Herod himself. But the world is so
wicked! He had no more success than if he had preached in the desert."

"His name?"

"Fra Buonvicino of the monastery Della Ricchezza de Brera. But the
riches that he covets are not those which one acquires in sewing
cloaks. Do you know him? Ah, what a man! question him, talk to him, he
knows everything, and--"

"But what did he say to the child?"--"And what did the child
say?"--"And the child's father, what did he do?"--It was thus they
interrupted the speaker, without listening to his eulogy.

Here Radegonda, regretting that she had been deposed from her throne,
took occasion to resume her speech, for no one was able to give more
details. She began again.

"Here, here," she said, "who is to talk, you or I? There are some
people who stick their noses everywhere and who--Now do you want to
know what the priest said? and how the poor condemned creature walked
with courage? and how in one instant he was in heaven in the company
of the angels?"

"And what did the child say?"

"The little child did not want to go along. He said:--'I know that it
is beautiful in Paradise, that the angels live there, and the kind
God, and there lives the good Madonna: but I would rather stay here
with Papa and Mamma; I would rather stay with them!' he repeated, and
cried."

"Sacred innocence!" exclaimed one of the listeners by an instinctive
compassion, and shed a few tears; but if any one had questioned him
regarding the justice of putting the child to death, he would have
unhesitatingly answered in the affirmative.

Our eloquent Radegonda continued:--

"But the priest! Is there any one here who did not see his face? Well,
you know how it looks when it rains and shines at the same time,--when
they say the Devil beats his wife,--that was the face of the good
monk. Tears large as the beads of a rosary ran down his cheeks, and at
the same time he had a smile like an angel.... He said to the boy,
'Your father goes with you to Paradise!' The child looked at him with
sad eyes, and asked, 'But Mamma?'--'Your mother,' replied the priest,
'will come with us.'--'If I stay on earth,' said the child, 'I must
then live without them?' The monk answered 'Yes'; and then