The Saint Part 11

Benedetto begged for a drink of milk, for the love of G.o.d!

"You can explain to the monks," said he. "You can say I was exhausted, and asked for a little milk, for the love of G.o.d."

"Yes, yes! It is all right! Take it! Drink!" the man exclaimed, for he believed Benedetto to be a saint. "And have you pa.s.sed the night out here? You were out in all that rain? Good Lord! how wet you are! You are soaked through like a sponge!" Benedetto drank.

"I thank G.o.d," he said, "for your Madness and for the blessing of the milk."

He embraced the man, and years afterwards the herder, Nazzareno Mercuri, used to tell that while Benedetto held him in his arms, he, Nazzareno did not seem to be himself; that his blood first turned to ice and then to fire; that his heart beat hard, very hard, as it did the first time he received Christ in the Sacrament; that a terrible headache which had tormented him for two days suddenly disappeared; that then he had realised he was in the arms of a saint, a worker of miracles; and that he had fallen on his knees at his feet! In reality he did not fall on his knees, but stood as one petrified, and Benedetto had to say twice to him: "Now go, Nazzareno; go, my dear son." Having despatched him thus lovingly on his way to the Sacro Speco, he himself started towards Santa Scholastica.

In the light of day the rocky slope held no spirits either good or evil.

The mountains, the clouds, even the dark walls of the monastery, and the tower itself looked heavy with sleep in the pale dawn. Benedetto entered the Ospizio, and stretching himself on his poor couch, without removing his wet garments, he crossed his arms on his breast, and sank into a deep sleep.

CHAPTER IV. FACE TO FACE

I.

The rumbling of the thunder roused Noemi shortly after two o'clock; she had fallen asleep only a short time before. Her room was next to Jeanne's, and the door between them had been left open. Jeanne immediately called out to her. They had talked until two o'clock, when Noemi, quite exhausted, and after many vain efforts, had finally succeeded in persuading her indefatigable friend to leave her in peace.

Now she pretended not to hear. Jeanne called again.

"Noemi! The thunder-storm! I am so frightened!"

"You are not a bit frightened!" Noemi answered irritably. "Be quiet! Go to sleep!"

"I am frightened! I am coming into your room."

"I forbid it!"

"Then you must come in here!"

Noemi's "Will you be quiet?" sounded so resolute that the other was silent.

Only for a moment, however; then the tearful, childish voice, that Noemi knew so well, began again:

"Have you not slept long enough? Can you not talk now? You must have slept three hours!"

Noemi struck a match and looked at her watch, holding which she had previously begged for silence.

"Twenty-two minutes!" she announced. "Be quiet!"

Jeanne was still for a moment, then she uttered those little hm!--hm!--hms!--which are always the prelude to tears in a spoilt child.

And the complaining voice went on:

"You do not love me at all! Hm! Hm! For pity's sake let us talk a little! Hm! Hm! Hm!"

In her mother tongue, Noemi sighed:

"_Oh_! _mon Dieu_!"

With another sigh she resigned herself to the inevitable:

"Well, go ahead! But what can you say to me that you have not already said in the last four hours?"

The thunder roared, but Jeanne no longer noticed it.

"To-morrow morning we will go to the monastery," said she.

"Why yes, of course!"

"Only we two alone?"

"Yes, certainly, that is already settled."

The tearful voice was silent a moment, and then went on: "You have not yet promised not to tell anything here in the house."

"I've promised at least ten times!"

"You know what you are to say--do you not--if you are questioned about my fainting last night?"

"I know."

"You must say that the Padre was not _he_; that I was disappointed, and that was why I fainted."

"Gracious, Jeanne! This is the twentieth time you have said that!"

"How cruel you are, Noemi! How little you care for me!"

Silence.

Jeanne's voice began again:

"Tell me what you think. Do you really believe he has forgotten me?"

"I will not answer that again!"

"Oh! please answer! Just one word, then I will let you go to sleep!"

Noemi reflected a moment and then answered drily, hoping to silence Jeanne:

"Well, I think he has. I do not believe he ever loved you."

"You say that because I myself have said so to you!" Jeanne retorted violently, no longer in a tearful voice.

"You are no judge of that!"

"_Bon ca_!" Noemi grumbled. "_C'est elle qui me l'a dit, et je ne dois pas le savoir_!" Silence again.