The old monk sighed, and dropped his head upon his bosom; and Paolina gazed at him with a feeling of awe, mingled with a suddenly rising fear, that the tall and emaciated old man, whose light-blue eyes gleamed out from beneath his cowl, was not wholly right in his mind.  She would have been more alarmed had she been aware that the old Padre Fabiano of St. Apollinare was generally considered in Ravenna to be crazed by all those who did not, instead of that, deem him a saint.

Before she had gained courage to answer him, however, he lifted his head, with another deep sigh, and said, in a very quiet and ordinary tone and manner,

“Your scaffold is all prepared for you there, Signora, according to the directions of the Signor Marchese Ludovico di Castelmare, who brought with him an order from the Archbishop’s Chancellor.  Will you look at it, and see if it is as you wish, and say where you wish to have it placed.”

The mosaics in the apse of the centre nave are the most remarkable of those that remain at St. Apollinare, though many of the series of medallion portraits of the Bishops of the See from the foundation of it, which circle the entire nave, are very curious.  Paolina had engaged to copy two or three of the most remarkable of these; but she intended to begin her work by attacking the larger figures in the apse.  And the scaffolding had been placed there on the southern side.

“I think that is just where I should wish to have it,” said Paolina, looking up at the vault.  “If I may, I will go up and see whether it is near enough to the figure I have to copy.”

“Do so, my daughter.  It looks a great height, but I have no doubt that it is quite safe.  The Signor Marchese was very particular in seeing to it himself.  See, I will go up first to give you courage.”

And so saying, the old man with a slow but firm step began to ascend the ladder of the scaffolding.  And when he had reached the platform at the top, Paolina, more used to such climbing than he, and who in truth had felt no alarm whatever, followed him with a lighter step.

“Yes, this will do nicely, Padre mio!” she said, when she had reached the top; “it is placed just where it should be, and this large window gives just all the light I want.  It is a much better light than I had to work by in San Vitale.”

“I never was in San Vitale,” replied the monk.  “I have been here fourteen years next Easter, and I have never once been in Ravenna in all that time, nor, indeed, further away from this church than just a stroll within the edge of the Pineta.”

“That is the Pineta we see from this window, of course, Padre mio.  What a lovely view of it!  And how beautiful it is!  Where does that road go to, Padre?  To Venice?”

“No, figliuola mia.  It goes in exactly the opposite direction, southwards, to Cervia.  The Venice road lies away to the northward, through the wood that you can see on the furthest horizon.  It was by that road I came to Ravenna.  I shall never travel it again.”