They traversed one side of the gallery, another low, vaulted corridor, and came to another cloister, with painted walls, more arches, more columns, lighter and more graceful, above which, around the three sides, were two rows this time of cell windows; a beautiful open vaulted gallery filled the third side, and was carried up through the second story.  Here was another well, out of which ivy-branches had grown and twined until the curb was one mass of dark-green, shining vines lying on a bed of moss.  Presently they came to a broad stone staircase, at the head of which “Silenzio” was written over an archway that led into a corridor so long and wide as to seem a world of empty space; on either side was an unending row of doors, all of them closed.

On many of the doors were inscriptions in Latin:  eight, one after the other, were marked, “Visitator primus, secundus,” etc.

“These are our quarters, then,” said Julia.  “But are only eight visitors allowed at a time?”

The padre laughed at the question.  “These rooms were intended for the visitors appointed to attend our general convocations, at which eight hundred of our order met here every three years to elect a new general and discuss our welfare; but the necessity for such visitors has passed away with our existence.  I can remember when all these cells were filled; and there are three hundred on this floor, and as many more above.  You are surprised, I see, at the number of doors:  there are so many because each cell has its anteroom, where we studied and meditated and prayed.”

They stopped at length before a door marked “Rev. Pater Vicar.  Generalis,” which was at the end of the corridor.  Unlocking the door, the padre invited them in.

“One of you will be lodged here, and, if you are not too tired, we will look at your other quarters before you sit down to rest.”

So saying, he led the way through five rooms, unlocked a door at the farther end, conducted them across another corridor of the same dimensions as the firsthand unlocked another door; when, suddenly recollecting himself, he said, “You will not be afraid to be separated?  There is nothing here to disturb you,—­nothing but these cats; and I will see that they do not annoy you.”

Then the ladies noticed for the first time in the growing darkness four cats, which turned out to be the padre’s bodyguard, attending him wherever he went.  Of course they were not afraid:  they were only sorry to put their kind host to so much trouble.  And so they proceeded to inspect a small cell with a bed and praying-stool and tripod with a basin for all the furniture.  The anteroom had a table and chair, and an engraving or two on the walls.  Next to this cell was another just like it, for which they agreed to draw lots, and then went to the padre’s anteroom for a book which he said would tell all about the history of the abbey.