drawn himself erect to the full of his great height--and he was a man who
usually went bowed. His hands were clenched and the knuckles showed
blue-white like marble. His face was very pale and in his temple a little
pulse was throbbing visibly. He swayed slightly upon his feet, and the
sight of him frightened me a little. He seemed so full of terrible
potentialities.

When I think of vengeance, I picture to myself Fra Gervasio as I beheld him
in that hour. Nothing that he could have done would have surprised me.
Had he fallen upon my mother then, and torn her limb from limb, it would
have been no more than from the sight of him I might have expected.

I have said that nothing that he could have done would have surprised me.
Rather should I have said that nothing would have surprised me save the
thing he did.

Whilst a man might have counted ten stood he so--she seeing nothing of the
strange transfiguration that had come over him, for her eyes were downcast
as ever. Then quite slowly, his hands unclenched, his arms fell limply to
his sides, his head sank forward upon his breast, and his figure bowed
itself lower than was usual. Quite suddenly, quite softly, almost as a man
who swoons, he sank down again into the chair from which he had risen.

He set his elbows on the table, and took his head in his hands. A groan
escaped him. She heard it, and looked at him in her furtive way.

"You are moved by this knowledge, Fra Gervasio," she said and sighed. "I
have told you this--and you, Agostino--that you may know how deep, how
ineradicable is my purpose. You were a votive offering, Agostino; you were
vowed to the service of God that your father's life might be spared, years