She shook her head, smiling at him with mock compassion.

"Would you? Poor man, poor man! That is an enjoyment which
you will have to renounce. One must n't expect too much in
this sad life."

"Well, then," said Peter, "I have an expedient. If you can
walk a somewhat narrow plank--?"

"Yes--?" questioned she.

"I think I can improvise a bridge across the river."

"I believe the rain has stopped," said the priest, looking
towards the window.

Peter, manning his soul for the inevitable, got up, went to the
door, opened it, stuck out his head.

"Yes," he acknowledged, while his heart sank within him, "the
rain has stopped."

And now the storm departed almost as rapidly as it had arrived.
In the north the sky was already clear, blue and hard-looking
--a wall of lapis-lazuli. The dark cloud-canopy was drifting to
the south. Suddenly the sun came out, flashing first from the
snows of Monte Sfiorito, then, in an instant, flooding the
entire prospect with a marvellous yellow light, ethereal amber;
whilst long streamers of tinted vapour--columns of pearl-dust,