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Updated: June 18, 2025
Don Faré was devouring Selva with his eyes, Selva, the author of critical essays on the Old and New Testament, and especially of a book on the basis of future Catholic theology, which had elevated and transfigured his faith. Baron Leynì was telling his story.
After a brief consultation with the muleteer, Benedetto had consented to ride down to where Signora Selva was waiting. Left alone, he seated himself near the cross, and waited for the man to return with the water and the parasol. The crescent moon was rising, gilding the bright sky, above the hills of Arcinazzo; the evening was warm and breathless.
"But I hear the carriage coming that is to take Dane and myself, and any one else who wishes to join us, to Subiaco, so I will go and take leave of Signor Selva." He leaned over the parapet to gather a small branch of the olive, planted on the terrace of the ground floor.
They came to Selva when he was passing through a dark crisis, a bitter struggle, which need not be related here. He thought this Maria d'Arxel might prove his saving star. He wrote to her again. "Do you know what anniversary this is?" asked Maria. "Do you remember?" Giovanni remembered; it was the anniversary of their first meeting.
They may, perhaps, contain some bold opinions, but there is no comparison between the deep, burning piety of Selva's works and the cold and meagre formalism of certain other books, which are more often found in the hands of the clergy than the Gospels themselves. Holy Father, the condemnation of Selva would be a blow directed against the most active and vital energies of Catholicism.
The tone was that of one who only half approves. But, why, then, had he come? Don Paolo looked displeased; the others were silent. An embarrassing pause ensued. At last Marinier said: "We will discuss this again to-night." "Yes," answered Selva quietly; "we will discuss it again to-night."
She read the same knowledge in his eyes, but the Under-Secretary's expression troubled her and irritated her, while the Minister's gaze seemed to open a paternal heart to her. The Minister introduced the topic by speaking of Giovanni Selva, whom he freely praised. He expressed regret that he had no personal acquaintance with him. He said he was aware that Jeanne was a friend of the Selvas.
He had promised this lady, before an alter at the Sacro Speco, to call her to him before his death, that they might speak together. Probably Signorina Noemi would be able to explain the reason of this to him. Selva paused; he had the letter in his pocket, and began searching for it. Jeanne saw his movement, and was seized with convulsive shuddering. "No, no," said he.
I intend to speak to you about two matters. You asked my permission, to visit a certain Selva and his wife. Have you been there? Yes? Can you assure me that your conscience is at rest?" Don Clemente answered unhesitatingly, but with a movement of surprise: "Yes, most certainly." "Well, well, well," said the Abbot, and took a large pinch of snuff with evident satisfaction.
Now the ascetic, penitential passion had come upon her; as it comes in different forms, upon many a man or woman in the sélva oscúra of their life; and Hester knew that there was no resisting it. Hester went back to her 'Welfare' work. Cicely travelled between Carton and London, collecting her trousseau and declaring that she would be married in Lent, whatever people might say.
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