ico deserved the reputation he
enjoyed of being, in ecclesiastical affairs, a man equal to the most
difficult emergencies, in character, in keen discernment, and in prompt
action.

But Don Teodoro sighed softly when he had spoken, for he thought of
Taquisara and of what that brave and silent man would suffer when he was
forced to stand by Gianluca's side and see the rings exchanged and the
hands joined, and hear the words spoken which must cut him off forever
from all hope. But Taquisara, at least, in his suffering, would have the
consolation of having been honest and true and loyal from first to last.
He would never have to bear the consequences of having been a coward at
a great moment. It could not be so very hard for him, after all, thought
Don Teodoro.

And he saw no reason for curtailing his stay in Naples, since there was
time until the first of January. On the contrary, he grew glad of those
long days, in which he could meditate on the past and think of the
future, and be supremely and humbly thankful for the great change that
had come into his life.

CHAPTER XXIX.

Don Teodoro wrote a few words to Taquisara, embodying what Don. Matteo
had advised him to say. He added also that matters had not turned out as
he had expected and that he should return to Muro as usual on the
twentieth of the month. The Sicilian, read the letter twice and then
burned it carefully. He was neither surprised nor disappointed by its
contents, though he had expected that there would be much more
difficulty in undoing what had been done. There was clearly nothing more
to be said, as there was most certainly nothing more to hope. Don
Teodoro had undoubtedly consulted the archbishop of Naples, thought
Taquisara, and such a decision was final and authoritative.

He had succeeded in forcing himself into a sort of mechanical regularity
of life which helped him through the day. Gianluca needed him still,
though less than formerly, and as long as he could be of use, and could
control his face and voice, he would stay in Muro. Since Veronica had
fixed the first of January as a limit, he could hardly find an excuse
for going away during the last three weeks of the time, when he could
still be of infinite service to his friend on the journey to Naples.

On the whole, he considered himself very little. It was easier to do his
utmost, and to invent more than his utmost to be done, than it would be
to live an idle life anywhere else.