and now they have fired the roof over these my tenants and
driven them into the _macchia_, whence they send message to me
to deliver them. Indeed, friend, I have much ado to protect
myself in these days: but by good fortune I have heard of an
English vessel homeward bound which will serve them if they can
reach the coast, whence numbers of the faithful will send them
off with good provision. Afterwards, what will happen?
To England the ship is bound, and in England I know you only.
Remembering your great heart, I call on it for what help you
can render to these holy men. _Addio_, friend. You are
remembered in my constant prayers to Christ, the Virgin, and
all the Saints.

"EMILIA."

At a sign from my father--who had sunk back in his chair and sat
gripping its arms--I passed on this epistle to my uncle Gervase, who
read it and ran his hand through his hair.

"Dear me!" said he, running his eye over the attentive monks, "this
lady, whoever she may be--"

"She is a crowned queen, brother Gervase," my father interrupted;
"and moreover she is the noblest woman in the world."

"As to that, brother," returned my uncle, "I am saying nothing.
But speaking of what I know, I say she can be but poorly conversant
with your worldly affairs."

My father half-lifted himself from his seat. "And is that how you