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Updated: June 29, 2025
Poor Noemi had concluded, from the effect produced on her friend when the monk hastened past her, that he was Maironi, and she was now overcome with pity. She spoke most loving, tender, and sweet words to her, in the voice of one soothing a suffering child. Jeanne did not answer, but her sobbing continued. "Perhaps it is better so, dear," Noemi ventured to say.
I hoped that the holiness of the work would be confirmed, after Maironi's death, by the perusal of this document, which might come to be looked upon in the light of a prophecy. I hoped this, although I was at great pains to prudently hide my secret hopes from Maironi. "Two years have elapsed since the day of his disappearance, and nothing has since been heard of him.
"My name is Piero Maironi," Benedetto answered; "but here at the monastery they call me Benedetto." And he made a movement to take the Abbot's hand and kiss it. "One moment," said the Abbot, frowning, withdrawing and raising his hand. "What are you doing here?" "I work in the kitchen garden," Benedetto replied. "Fool!" exclaimed the Abbot. "I ask what you are doing here outside my door?"
He must beg her to persuade her friends to undertake a most important mission to another person. And then he spoke of Maironi, always careful to place the Selvas between Maironi and Jeanne, and careful to avoid allusion to any possible direct communication between them.
She should rather believe that God is better served out in the world and in the married state. She did feel this, but she could not hide from herself that should Signor Maironi marry Jeanne now, she could feel little respect for him. At any rate it would be wiser to hide the strange truth. "Well, what is it you think?" said she.
She no longer wished to see this famous Maironi; she longed only to get Jeanne safely back to the Selvas', without any meetings, and she intended to tarry as long as possible at the Sacro Speco, that they might not have time to stop at Santa Scolastica.
He knocked, regardless of her silent gesticulations, as she implored the Madonna to send this intruder away. It was Benedetto who came to open the door. "I beg your pardon," said the stranger, politely, "are you Signor Maironi?" "I no longer bear that name," Benedetto replied, quietly, "but I once bore it." "I am sorry to trouble you. I should be greatly obliged if you would kindly come with me.
My sister and my brother-in-law reproached him; Giovanni was almost severe, perhaps because he is so different from Maironi, and would never think of touching a broom, even if he lived in a cloud of cobwebs! What does Maironi read? He has never but once spoken to me of what he reads, and then only for a moment, as I shall tell you later.
Monsignore, when you read these words, I also shall have disappeared. I beg you to take my place in this pious stewardship. You will act as your conscience may dictate, as you may deem best. "And pray for the soul of Your poor Benedetto laid the paper down, and gazed into the Pontiff's face, waiting. "Are you Piero Maironi?" he said. "Yes, your Holiness." The Pontiff smiled pleasantly.
She rose, turned on the light, seated herself at the writing-table, chose a sheet of paper, and wrote: "To Piero Maironi, the night of October 29, "I believe. When she had written, she gazed a long, long time at the solemn words. The longer she gazed, the farther the two Jeannes seemed to draw apart. The unconsciously proud Jeanne overpowered and crushed the other almost without a struggle.
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