“I will get my boat and go down this very afternoon,” said Pietro; “and, Sir, I hope I am not making too bold in asking you, when you see the fair Agnes, to present unto her this lily, in memorial of her old playfellow.”

“That I will, my boy!  And now I think of it, she spoke kindly of you as one that had been a companion in her childhood, but said her grandmother would not allow her to speak to you now.”

“Ah, that is it!” said Pietro.  “Old Elsie is a fierce old kite, with strong beak and long claws, and will not let the poor girl have any good of her youth.  Some say she means to marry her to some rich old man, and some say she will shut her up in a convent, which I should say was a sore hurt and loss to the world.  There are a plenty of women, whom nobody wants to look at, for that sort of work; and a beautiful face is a kind of psalm which makes one want to be good.”

“Well, well, my boy, work well and faithfully for the saints on this shrine, and I dare promise you many a smile from this fair maiden; for her heart is set upon the glory of God and his saints, and she will smile on any one who helps on the good work.  I shall look in on you daily for a time, till I see the work well started.”

So saying, the old monk took his leave.  Just as he was passing out of the house, some one brushed rapidly by him, going down the street.  As he passed, the quick eye of the monk recognized the cavalier whom he had seen in the garden but a few evenings before.  It was not a face and form easily forgotten, and the monk followed him at a little distance behind, resolving, if he saw him turn in anywhere, to follow and crave an audience of him.

Accordingly, as he saw the cavalier entering under the low arch that led to his hotel, he stepped up and addressed him with a gesture of benediction.

“God bless you, my son!”

“What would you with me, father?” said the cavalier, with a hasty and somewhat suspicious glance.

“I would that you would give me an audience of a few moments on some matters of importance,” said the monk, mildly.

The tones of his voice seemed to have excited some vague remembrance in the mind of the cavalier; for he eyed him narrowly, and seemed trying to recollect where he had seen him before.  Suddenly a light appeared to flash upon his mind; for his whole manner became at once more cordial.

“My good father,” he said, “my poor lodging and leisure are at your service for any communication you may see fit to make.”

So saying, he led the way up the damp, ill-smelling stone staircase, and opened the door of the deserted room where we have seen him once before.  Closing the door, and seating himself at the one rickety table which the room afforded, he motioned to the monk to be seated also; then taking off his plumed hat, he threw it negligently on the table beside him, and passing his white, finely formed hand through the black curls of his hair, he tossed them carelessly from his forehead, and, leaning his chin in the hollow of his hand, fixed his glittering eyes on the monk in a manner that seemed to demand his errand.