the bishop's
coach in front of the priest's modest house. The two brothers were
coming out of the door. Father Benart was saying:

"There are many inexplicable things in a country parish, my brother.
It is not in my power to make Lisa Embden, or any other creature, feel
happiness in the pursuit of good. If I can keep them a little out of
the path of evil, it is all I can hope for."

"I am of the belief," cried the bishop, "that one self-willed and
unruly woman like Peggy Kirkpatrick can put insubordination into the
head of a young woman, like Francezka Cheverny--Francezka, in her
turn, can implant it in her dependents. There seems to be a general
lack of discipline among the women in your parish, brother."

"True," replied Father Benart, "and I take it that Madame Riano is to
blame for Lisa Embden's lapse from virtue."

The bishop glared at his brother--Father Benart standing, smiling and
blinking in the sun. The bishop then noticed me, but I was no
restraint upon him, for he plunged into a long and severe discourse
upon the evils Father Benart was bringing upon his parish by allowing
the women in it to do pretty much as they pleased. Father Benart
meekly excused himself by saying that he could not help it. The
bishop, however, showed that he had not a bad heart, by leaving a
dozen gold louis, which he directed should be spent on the poor of the
parish--at the same time sternly commanding that not one penny should
be spent on the chief of sinners, Lisa Embden. Father Benart accepted
this dole with a twinkle in his eye and solemnly promised that Lisa
should not have a penny of it.

But a few days more remained of our stay. It passed quietly, in sweet
and gentle converse, and with books and music. The change continued in
Francezka after the bishop's visit. He was a man of little weight, and
she had frankly treated him as such, but his belief that Gaston
Cheverny was no more, which she had treated with scorn, had yet left
its impress on her; perhaps because people of more sense than the
bishop had been more guarded and tender with her. But when we bade her
good by, she said to us:

"Remember, Count Saxe and Babache, if you are my friends, you will
never forget to make inquiry of each and every person you meet, from
whom it would be possible to hear of my husband. For myself, once,
every day, shall I go to the spot in the Italian garden which
overlooks the highroad, to watch for my heart's desire--and if he
never r