,
caused a commotion in the crowd of habitans, who began to utter louder
and louder exclamations of dissent and remonstrance. A close observer
would have noticed angry looks and clenched fists in many parts of the
crowd, pressing closer and closer round the platform.

The signs of increasing tumult in the crowd did not escape the sharp
eyes of Father Glapion, who, seeing that the hot-blooded Italian was
overstepping the bounds of prudence in his harangue, called him by name,
and with a half angry sign brought his sermon suddenly to a close.
Padre Monti obeyed with the unquestioning promptness of an automaton. He
stopped instantly, without rounding the period or finishing the sentence
that was in his mouth.

His flushed and ardent manner changed to the calmness of marble as,
lifting up his hands with a devout oremus, he uttered a brief prayer and
left the puzzled people to finish his speech and digest at leisure his
singular sermon.

CHAPTER L. "BLESSED THEY WHO DIE DOING THY WILL."

It was the practice of the Bourgeois Philibert to leave his
counting-room to walk through the market-place, not for the sake of the
greetings he met, although he received them from every side, nor to buy
or sell on his own account, but to note with quick, sympathizing eye the
poor and needy and to relieve their wants.

Especially did he love to meet the old, the feeble, the widow, and the
orphan, so numerous from the devastation of the long and bloody war.

The Bourgeois had another daily custom which he observed with unfailing
regularity. His table in the House of the Golden Dog was set every day
with twelve covers and dishes for twelve guests, "the twelve apostles,"
as he gayly used to say, "whom I love to have dine with me, and who come
to my door in the guise of poor, hungry, and thirsty men, needing meat
and drink. Strangers to be taken in, and sick wanting a friend." If
no other guests came he was always sure of the "apostles" to empty his
table, and, while some simple dish sufficed for himself, he ordered the
whole banquet to be given away to the poor. His choice wines, which he
scarcely permitted himself to taste, were removed from his table and
sent to the Hotel Dieu, the great convent of the Nuns Hospitalieres, for
the use of the sick in their charge, while the Bourgeois returned thanks
with a heart more content than if kings had dined at his table.

To-day was the day of St. Martin, the anniversary of the death of his