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Updated: June 25, 2025
He gave himself up to a sense of sweetness which was coming over him, the sweetness of hardly feeling his body any longer, but of feeling God in his soul, so near, so tender, so warm. He was where God wished him to be. A hand was laid on his forehead, an electric light dazzled his eyes, and an affectionate, strong voice said: "Well, how do you feel?" He recognised Mayda.
Professor Mayda, another friend of Selva's, engaged him as under-gardener at the villa which he built two years ago on the Aventine, below Sant' Anselmo. The new under-gardener, who wished to be called simply Benedetto, as at Jenne, soon became popular in the whole Testaccio quarter.
Without his noticing the motion, the sick man stretched out his hand and touched him gently on the arm, Mayda turned towards him, and read in his smiling eyes the question, "Well?" He did not speak, but answered with that undulating movement of open hands which meant neither good, nor bad.
His intelligence and his Christian sentiment were in a state of contradiction. He was aware that he was not liked by the lady who had married the Professor's son, a naval officer, now in the East; he saw that his return to Villa Mayda would be displeasing to her, and a source of discord between her father-in-law and herself.
Mayda was not familiar with the Psalms, with the profound word of that ancient Hebrew, to whom our little sun seemed dark, the sun which conceals the higher world. He understood, without understanding. He remained reverently silent. Benedetto sought the stars with his eyes.
At Villa Mayda nothing is known, and they will not even answer any more questions, for they are exasperated by the procession of people ringing the bell. A squad of carabinieri comes upon the scene, and charges down Via Galvani in serried ranks. Hisses are heard, and angry cries: "They know! They took him away!"
She was convinced that Jeanne had had a hand in his disappearance from Villa Mayda, that she knew his hiding-place, and did not wish to disclose it, having promised secrecy to his friends. But Jeanne had little confidence in the lady, who seemed to her frivolous, and who was this she could not forget the wife of a powerful enemy, and she had repeatedly assured her that she did not know.
Yes, perhaps Maria and Noemi were going, but they would not leave Piero alone. Mayda would be there; the Benedictine and the sister would be there. Well, at least, she would try. A hurried footstep in the avenue of orange-trees; some one was going towards the gardener's house. Jeanne, who had risen, sat down again. Now the unknown person entered. More shadows at the window.
Neither Mayda nor any of the disciples spoke. Benedetto drank a little water, thanked the sister, and began to speak once more: "Purify the faith for grown men, who cannot thrive on the food of infants. This part of your work is for those who are outside the Church, whether they belong to her by name or not for those with whom you will be constantly mingling.
Thus Jeanne offered her love. And the sleeper was filled with what seemed to him fresh evidence that God is not! It was, indeed, a real physical sensation, a chill creeping over all his limbs, moving slowly to the heart. He began to tremble violently, and awoke. Mayda was bending over him, the thermometer in his hand. Benedetto murmured, with straining eyes: "Father! Father! Father!"
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