"No doubt, no doubt," agreed Maria Dolores, beginning to pace backwards
and forwards over the lichen-stained marble pavement, (stained as by the
hand of an artist, in wavy veins of yellow or pale-green, with here and
there little rosettes of scarlet), while John kept beside her. "All the
same, I should not like to kneel quite in the very heart of the crowd,
as you do."

"You are a delicate and sensitive woman," he reminded her. "I am a man,
and a moderately tough one. However, I must admit that until rather
recently I had exactly your feeling. But I got a lesson." He broke off
and gave a vague little laugh, vaguely rueful, as at a not altogether
pleasant reminiscence.

"What was the lesson?" she asked.

"Well," said he, "if you care to know, it was this. The first time that
I attended Mass here, desiring to avoid the people, I sought out a far
corner of the church, behind a pillar, where there was no one. But as
soon as I had got myself well established there, up hobbled a deformed
and lame old man, and plumped himself down beside me, so close that our
coat-sleeves touched. I think he was the most repulsive-looking old man
I have ever seen; he was certainly the dirtiest, the grimiest, and his
rags were extravagantly foul. I will spare you a more circumstantial
portrait. And all through Mass I was sick with disgust and sore with
resentment. Why should he come and rub his coat-sleeve against mine,
when there was room in plenty for him elsewhere? The next time I went to
church, I chose a different corner, as remote as might be from my former
one; but again, no sooner was I well installed, than, lo and behold, the
same unspeakable old man limped up and knelt with me, cheek by jowl. And
so, if you can believe it, the next time, and so the next. It didn't