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"An angel, yes," the priest went on, rising from his chair, "an angel whose immaculate truth has mirrored my falsehood in all its vileness and distortion to whom, if it destroys me, I cannot devote less than a truthfulness like hers!" "Hers hers?" cried the painter, with a sudden pang. "Whose? Don't speak in these riddles. Whom do you mean?" "Whom can I mean but only one? madamigella!"

It has been more a relief than a shame to have all this known to you; and even if you should despise me" "I don't despise you; that isn't for me; but oh, I wish that I could help you!" Don Ippolito shook his head. "You cannot help me; but I thank you for your compassion; I shall never forget it." He lingered irresolutely with his hat in his hand. "Shall we go on with the reading, madamigella?"

"Now, you must not give way to despair again," she said to him. "You will succeed, I am sure, for you will deserve success." "It is all your goodness, madamigella," sighed the priest, "and at the bottom of my heart I am afraid that all the hope and courage I have are also yours." "You shall never want for hope and courage then.

It is singular that I should venture to say such a thing to you, and it must seem presumptuous and ridiculous for me, a Protestant but our ways are so different."... She paused, coloring deeply, then controlled herself, and added with grave composure, "If you were to pray" "To what, madamigella?" asked the priest, sadly. "To what!" she echoed, opening her eyes full upon him. "To God!"

Poor helpless, friendless wretch! Madamigella, even yet I cannot see how I was to blame, that I came forth and received the first of the holy orders, and in their time the second and the third. "I was a priest, but no more a priest at heart than those Venetian conscripts, whom you saw carried away last week, are Austrian soldiers. I was bound as they are bound, by an inexorable and inevitable law.

But you must go, now. Take time to think, but not too much time. Only, be true to yourself." They rose, and she laid her hand on his arm with an instinctive gesture of appeal. He stood bewildered. Then, "Thanks, madamigella, thanks!" he said, and caught her fragrant hand to his lips.

"But I never have thought of it with regret, because I have been preoccupied with other ideas than those of social pleasures, though perhaps they were no wiser." Florida had watched Don Ippolito's face while Ferris was speaking, and she now asked gravely, "But don't you think their life nowadays is more becoming to the clergy?" "Why, madamigella? What harm was there in those gayeties?

"Madamigella, I swear to you by everything you believe good that I would rather die than be false to you in a single breath or thought." "Oh, I know it, I know it," she murmured. "I don't see how I could say such a cruel thing." "Not cruel; no, madamigella, not cruel," softly pleaded Don Ippolito. "But but is there no escape for you?"

"No, that is true," said Florida, letting her fingers drop again on the keys. Don Ippolito rose from the sofa where he had been sitting beside her while they read, and walked the length of the room. Then he came towards her and said meekly, "Madamigella, I did not mean to repel any interest you feel in me. But it was a strange question to ask a priest, as I remembered I was when you asked it."

She stood in the walk where she had stopped when her voice arrested him, breathing quickly. Their eyes met; a painful shadow overcast the face of the young girl, who seemed to be trying in vain to speak. Mrs. Vervain put on her glasses and peered down at the two with good- natured curiosity. "Well, madamigella," said the priest at last, "what do you command me?" He gave a faint, patient sigh.