ociety inside the city walls, while on his
side he observed an exquisite discretion towards myself. But in our
walks abroad we frequently managed to meet as if by accident. Half a
league outside the Porta Romana the high road traverses a hollow way
between melancholy uplands on either hand, relieved only by a few gloomy
larches. Under the clayey slope of the northern escarpment and close by
the roadside, a dry well rears its light canopy of open ironwork.

At this spot I would encounter the Reverend Father Adone Doni almost
every evening, seated on the coping of the well, his hands buried in the
sleeves of his gown, gazing out with mild surprise into the night. The
gathering dusk still left it possible to make out on his bright-eyed,
flat-nosed face the habitual expression of timid daring and graceful
irony which was impressed upon it so profoundly. At first we merely
exchanged formal good wishes for each other's health, peace and
happiness. Then I would take my place by his side on the old stone
well-head, that bore some traces of carving. It was still possible, in
full daylight, to distinguish a figure with a head bigger than its body
and representing an Angel, as seemed indicated by the wings.

The Reverend Father never failed to say courteously:

"Welcome, Signore! Welcome to the Well of St. Clare."

One evening I asked him the reason why the well bore the name of this
favourite disciple of St. Francis. He informed me it was because of a
very edifying little miracle, which for all its charm had unfortunately
never found a place in the collection of the _Fioretti_. I begged him to
oblige me by telling it, which he proceeded to do in the following
terms:

"In the days when the poor man of Jesus Christ, Francis, son of
Bernardone, used to journey from town to town teaching holy simplicity
and love, he visited Sienna, in company with Brother Leo, the man of his
own heart. But the Siennese, a covetous and cruel generation, true sons
of the She-Wolf on whose milk they boasted themselves to have been
suckled, gave a sorry welcome to the holy man, who bade them take into
their house two ladies of a perfect beauty, to wit Poverty and
Obedience. They overwhelmed him with obloquy and mocking laughter, and
drove him forth from the city. He left the place in the night by the
Porta Romana. Brother Leo, who tramped alongside, spoke up and said to
him:--

"'The Siennese have written on the gates of their city,--"Sienna opens