Diana—­smiling back—­put a finger to her lip; the service was at its height, and close as they were to the altar decorum was necessary.  Presently, guided by her, they moved softly on to a remoter and darker corner.

“Couldn’t we escape to the Upper Church?” asked Chide of Diana.

She nodded, and led the way.  They stole in and out of the kneeling groups of the north transept, and were soon climbing the stairway that links the two churches, out of sight and hearing of the multitude below.  Here there was again pale daylight.  Greetings were interchanged, and both Chide and Ferrier studied Diana’s looks with a friendly anxiety they did their best to conceal.  Forbes also observed Juliet Sparling’s daughter—­hotly curious—­yet also hotly sympathetic.  What a story, by Jove!

Their footsteps echoed in the vast emptiness of the Upper Church.  Apparently they had it to themselves.

“No friars!” said Forbes, looking about him.  “That’s a blessing, anyway!  You can’t deny, Miss Mallory, that they’re a blot on the landscape.  Or have you been flattering them up, as all the other ladies do who come here?”

“We have only just arrived.  What’s wrong with the friars?” smiled Diana.

“Well, we arrived this morning, and I’ve about taken their measure—­though Ferrier won’t allow it.  But I saw four of them—­great lazy, loafing fellows, Miss Mallory—­much stronger than you or me—­being dragged up these abominable hills—­four of ’em—­in one legno—­with one wretched toast-rack of a horse.  And not one of them thought of walking.  Each of them with his brown petticoats, and an umbrella as big as himself.  Ugh!  I offered to push behind, and they glared at me.  What do you think St. Francis would have said to them?  Kicked them out of that legno, pretty quick, I’ll bet you!”

Diana surveyed the typical young Englishman indulging a typically Protestant mood.

“I thought there were only a few old men left,” she said, “and that it was all very sad and poetic?”

“That used to be so,” said Ferrier, glancing round the church, so as to make sure that Chide was safely occupied in seeing as much of the Giotto frescos on the walls as the fading light allowed.  “Then the Pope won a law-suit.  The convent is now the property of the Holy See, the monastery has been revived, and the place seems to swarm with young monks.  However, it is you ladies that ruin them.  You make pretty speeches to them, and look so charmingly devout.”

“There was a fellow at San Damiano this morning,” interrupted Bobbie, indignantly; “awfully good-looking—­and the most affected cad I ever beheld.  I’d like to have been his fag-master at Eton!  I saw him making eyes at some American girls as we came in; then he came posing and sidling up to us, and gave us a little lecture on ‘Ateismo.’  Ferrier said nothing—­stood there as meek as a lamb, listening to him—­looking straight at him.  I nearly died of laughing behind them.”