ated traveller would seem to see the night mists of
the meadows in the moonlight mimic the intertwining limbs of lovers. And
in very deed they were little more than a fleeting fog themselves. The
cold tried them sorely. One night, when the snow shrouded the fields,
the Nymphs AEgle, Neaera, Mnais and Melib[oe]a glided through the cracks
in the marble into the narrow, gloomy chamber where I dwell. Their
comrades crowded after in their train, and the Fauns, dashing in pursuit
of them, quickly joined them too. My house became their house. We
scarcely ever left it, except to visit the woods, when the night was
fine and clear. Even then they would make haste to return at the first
cock-crow. For you must know, my son, that alone of the horned race I
have leave to appear on this earth by the light of day. It is a
privilege attached to my Saintship.

"My tomb now inspired more veneration than ever among the country
people, and every day young mothers came to present their nurslings to
me, lifting the naked babes in their arms. When the sons of St. Francis
settled in the land and built a monastery on the hill-side, they craved
the Bishop's leave to transfer my monument to their Church and there
keep it as a sacred thing. The favour was granted, and I was borne in
great pomp to the Chapel of San Michele, where I repose to this day. My
rustic family was carried thither along with me. It was a signal honour;
but I confess I regretted the broad highway, where I could watch at dawn
the peasant women carrying on their heads their basketfuls of grapes and
figs and red aubergines. Time has hardly softened my regret, and I would
I were still beneath the plane-tree on the Sacred Way.

"Such is my life," ended the old Satyr. "It flows on pleasantly, gentle
and unobtrusive, down all the ages of the world. If a touch of sadness
mingles with the joy of it, 'tis because the gods have willed it so. Oh!
my son, let us praise the gods, masters of the universe!"

Fra Mino stood thinking a while. Then he said:

"I understand now the meaning of what I saw, during that evil night, in
the Chapel of San Michele. Still one point remains dark to my mind. Tell
me why, old man, the Nymphs who, dwell with you, and couple with the
fauns, changed into old women of squalid ugliness when they came nigh
me."

"Alas! my son," answered the Saint, "time spares neither men nor gods.
These last are immortal only in the imagination of the short-lived race
of men