the church, in whose bosom she has been
reared?"

Luca hesitated uneasily, and walked away
a step or two before he spoke again.

"Does this spoil, as you call it, amount to
a large sum of money ? " he asked in an
anxious whisper.

"I may answer that question, Luca. at some
future time," said the priest. " For the present,
let it be enough that you are acquainted
with all I undertook to inform you of when
we began our conversation. You now know
that if I am anxious for this marriage to
take place, it is from motives entirely
unconnected with self-interest. If all the property
which Fabio's ancestors wrongfully obtained
from the church, were restored to the church
to-morrow, not one paulo of it would go into
my pocket. I am a poor priest now, and to
the end of my days shall remain so. You
soldiers of the world, brother, fight for your
pay—I am a soldier of the church, and I
fight for my cause."

Saying these words, he returned abruptly
to the statuette; and refused to speak, or
leave his employment again, until he had
taken the mould off and had carefully put
away the various fragments of which it
consisted. This done, he drew a writing-desk
from the drawer of his working-table, and
taking out a slip of paper, wrote these lines:

"Come down to the studio to-morrow. Fabio will
be with us, but Nanina will return no more."

"Without signing what he had written, he
sealed it up, and directed it to—" Donna
Maddalena." Then took his hat, and handed
the note to his brother.

"Oblige me by giving that to my niece,"
he said.

"Tell me, Rocco," said Luca, turning the
note round and round perplexedly between
his finger and thumb. " Do you think
Maddalena will be lucky enough to get married to
Fabio ?"

"Still coarse in your expressions, brother!"
"Never mind my expressions. Is it likely?"
"Yes, Luca, I think it is likely."
With these words he waved his hand
pleasantly to his brother, and went out.

CHAPTER III.

FROM the studio, Father Rocco went
straight to his own rooms, hard by the church
to which he was attached. Opening a cabinet
in his study, he took from one of its drawers
a handful of small silver money—consulted
for a minute or so a slate on which
several names and addresses were written—
provided himself with a portable inkhorn
and some strips of paper, and again went
out.

He directed his steps to the poorest
part of the neighbourhood; and entering
some very wretched houses, was greeted
by the inhabitants with great respect
and affection. The women, especially, kissed
his hands with more reverence than they
would have shown to the highest crowned
head in Europe. In return, he talked to
them as easily and unconstrainedly as if they
were his equals; sat down cheerfully on dirty
bed-sides and rickety benches; and distributed
his little gifts of money with the air of
a man who was paying debts rather than
bestowing charity. Where he encountered
cases of illness, he pulled out his inkhorn and
slips of paper, and wrote simple prescriptions
to be made up from the medicine-chest of a
neighbouring convent, which served the same
merciful purpose then that is answered by
dispensaries in our days. When he had
exhausted his money and had got through his
visits, he was escorted out of the poor quarter
by a perfect train of enthusiastic followers.
The women kissed his hand again, and the
men uncovered as he turned, and, with a
friendly sign, bade them all farewell.

As soon as he was alone again, he walked
towards the Campo Santo; and passing the
house in which Nanina lived, sauntered up
and down the street thoughtfully, for some
minutes: when he at length ascended the steep
staircase that led to the room occupied by
the sisters, he found the door ajar. Pushing
it open gently, he saw La Biondella, sitting
with her pretty fair profile turned towards
him, eating her evening meal of bread and
grapes. At the opposite end of the room,
Scarammuccia was perched up on his hind
quarters in a corner, with his mouth wide
open to catch the morsel of bread which he
evidently expected the child to throw to him.
What the elder sister was doing the priest
had not time to see; for the dog barked the
moment he presented himself; and Nanina
hastened to the door to ascertain who the
intruder might be. All that he could observe
was that she was too confused, on catching
sight of him, to be able to utter a word. La
Biondella was the fii'st to speak.

"Thank you, Father Rocco," said the child,
jumping up, with her bread in one hand and
her grapes in the other: "Thank you for
giving me so much money for my dinner-mats.
There they are tied up together in one little
parcel, in the corner. Nanina said she was
ashamed to think of your carrying them; and
I said I knew where you lived, and I should
like to ask you to let me take them home."

"Do you think you can carry them all the
way, my dear ? " asked the priest.

"Look, Father Rocco, see if I can't carry
them! " cried La Biondella, cramming her
bread into one of the pockets of her little
apron, holding her bunch of grapes by the
stalk in her mouth, and hoisting the packet
of dinner-mats on her head in a moment.

See, I am strong enough to carry double,"
said the child, looking up proudly into the
priest's face.

"Can you trust her to take them home for
me? " asked Father Rocco, turning to Nanina.
"I want to speak to you alone; and her