his head as the great man, oblivious of their coming before a crowd of
intent watchers, continued the words he had been saying on Via Paoli.

"And the Holy See is about to make your Marqua into a Province. Is it
not wonderful, Father Ramoni, that you will go back with that gift to
the people you converted? And yet to me it is more wonderful that you
wish to go back. Why do you not stay here? You, a Roman, would
advance."

"Not now, Monsignore," the missionary answered quickly. They were
passing the group near the fountain, going toward the bench where
Father Denfili sat. Ramoni's secretary, a thin, serious-visaged priest
of about the same age as his Superior, with bald head and timid,
shrinking eyes, took with the greatest deference the cloak and hat
Father Ramoni handed to him. Then he fell back of the old General.
The prelate answered Ramoni. "But you are right, of course," he
admitted. "It is best that you return. The Church needs you there now.
But later on--_chi lo sa_? You are to preach Sunday afternoon at San
Carlo? I shall be there to hear you. So will all Rome, I suppose. Ah,
you do well here! '_Filius urbis et orbis_--son of the city and the
world.' It's a great title, Ramoni!"

They had come in front of the bench where Father Denfili told his
beads. The prelate turned to the old General of San Ambrogio with
deference. "Is it not so, Father?" he asked. But Father Denfili raised
his sightless eyes as if he sought to focus them upon the group before
him. Father Ramoni, laughingly dissenting, suddenly felt his joy
congealing into a cold fear that bound his heart. He turned away
angrily, then recovered himself in time. Father Denfili was no longer
on the bench beside the pond. He was groping his way back to the