I looked up. A tall monk, whose cowl partly concealed his pale, but
resolute features, stood at my side--one of those heroes who, for
the love of Christ, came forth at that terrible time and faced the
pestilence fearlessly, where the blatant boasters of no-religion
scurried away like frightened hares from the very scent of danger. I
greeted him with an obeisance, and explained my errand.

"I will go at once," he said, with an accent of pity in his voice.
"But I fear the worst. I have remedies with me; I may not be too
late."

"I will accompany you," I said, eagerly. "One would not let a dog
die unaided; much less this poor lad, who seems friendless."

The monk looked at me attentively as we walked on together.

"You are not residing in Naples?" he asked.

I gave him my name, which he knew by repute, and described the
position of my villa.

"Up on that height we enjoy perfect health," I added. "I cannot
understand the panic that prevails in the city. The plague is
fostered by such cowardice."

"Of course!" he answered, calmly. "But what will you? The people
here love pleasure. Their hearts are set solely on this life. When
death, common to all, enters their midst, they are like babes scared
by a dark shadow. Religion itself"--here he sighed deeply--"has no