one the wiser; but we
that be women should have the sense to let bon Nature alone. When did
sleep ever harm the racked brain or the torn heart?"

When he had been forty-eight hours asleep, it got wind, and they had
much ado to keep the curious out. But they admitted only Fra Colonna and
his friend the gigantic Fra Jerome.

These two relieved the women, and sat silent; the former eyeing his
young friend with tears in his eyes, the latter with beads in his
hand looked as calmly on him as he had on the sea when Gerard and he
encountered it hand to hand.

At last, I think it was about the sixtieth hour of this strange sleep,
the landlady touched Fra Colonna with her elbow. He looked. Gerard had
opened his eyes as gently as if he had been but dozing.

He stared.

He drew himself up a little in bed.

He put his hand to his head, and found his hair was gone.

He noticed his friend Colonna, and smiled with pleasure.

But in the middle of smiling his face stopped, and was convulsed in a
moment with anguish unspeakable, and he uttered a loud cry, and turned
his face to the wall.

His good landlady wept at this. She had known what it is to awake
bereaved.

Fra Jerome recited canticles, and prayers from his breviary.

Gerard rolled himself in the bed-clothes.

Fra Colonna went to him, and whimpering, reminded him that all was not
lost. The divine Muses were immortal. He must transfer his affection to
them; they would never betray him nor fail him like creatures of clay.
The good, simple father then hurried away; for he was overcome by his
emotion.

Fra Jerome remained behind. "Young man," said he, "the Muses exist but
in the brains of pagans and visionaries. The Church alone gives repose
to the heart on earth, and happiness to the soul hereafter. Hath earth
deceived thee, hath passion broken thy heart after tearing it, the
Church opens her arms: consecrate thy gifts to her! The Church is peace
of mind."

He spoke these words solemnly at the door, and was gone as soon as they
were uttered.

"The Church!" cried Gerard, rising furiously, and shaking his fist after
the friar. "Malediction on the Church! But for the Church I should
not lie broken here, and she lie cold, cold, cold, in Holland. Oh, my
Margaret! oh, my darling! my darling! And I must run from thee the few
months thou hadst to live. Cruel! cruel! The monsters, they let her die.
Death comes not without some signs. These the blind selfish wretches saw
no