Perhaps it was the fear that he might be late for this duty,--a task
which devolved on him, the lay brother being ill,--that made his
steps, as he returned, very different from those with which he had
set forth. He came back hurrying, with a haggard, wild terror in his
eyes, shaking in every limb, and with great drops of perspiration
standing on his brow. One would have said that all this evident
perturbation could not be caused only by the fear of being late to
ring the "Angelus." His first care, however, was to pay another
visit to his patient.

"Ah! Padre, you are going to have your turn again. It is early this
year. All this wet weather. Why, your hand is shaking worse than
mine!" said the sick man, as the old monk handed him his draught.
And it was true enough that not only Father Fabiano's hands were
shaking, but he was, indeed, trembling all over; and any one but a
sick man, lying as the fevered lay-brother was lying, could not have
failed to see that it was from mental agitation, rather than from
the shivering of incipient ague, that he was suffering.

"You think of getting well yourself, brother Simone. I have not got
the fever yet," said the monk, making an effort to control himself
and speak in his ordinary manner.

"May the saints grant that your reverence do not fall ill before I
am able to get up, or I don't know what we should do."

"It is years, brother Simone, that make my hand shake, more than
ague this time, years, and many a former touch of the fever. I am
not ill this time yet. And now I must go and ring the 'Angelus.'"