The monastery is built against the sheer side of the mountain, perched on
a cornice, like a huge eagle's nest. The buildings have no pretense to
architectural beauty, and consist of barrack-like houses built around a
quadrangle. The chapel is at the farther end, and is, of course, the
centre of interest. Here is kept the sacred image, which has survived so
many chances and changes; which, hidden for a hundred and fifty years in
a cavern on the mountainside, made itself known at last by a miraculous
illumination at night, and for the further guidance of the faithful gave
forth a sweet scent. It, moreover, selected this spot for its shrine by
jibbing under the immediate eye of a bishop, and refusing to be carried
further up the mountain.

The house of Santa Maria de Jesu has the advantage of being at the outer
end of the quadrangle, and thus having no house opposite to it, faces a
sheer fall of three thousand feet. A fountain splashes in the courtyard
below, and a low wall forms a long seat where the devout pass the evening
hours in that curt and epigrammatic conversation, which is more peaceful
than the quick talk of Frenchmen, and deeper than the babble of Italy.

It was to this wall that the little wizened man led the way, and here
seated himself with a gesture, inviting his companions to do the same.
Had any idle observer been interested in their movements he would have
concluded that these were four travelers, probably pilgrims of the better
class, who had made acquaintance at the table d'hôte.

"I have come a long way," said the little man at once, speaking in the
rather rounded French of the Italian born, "and have left Rome at a time
when the Church requires the help of even the humblest of her servants--I
hope our good Mon has something important and really effective this time
to communicate."