seemed to woo the gentle air of the quiet and soft skies. I approached
a few steps, and saw the profile of the countenance more distinctly than
I had done before. It was of a marble whiteness; the features, though
sharpened and attenuated by disease, were of surpassing beauty; the hair
was exceedingly, almost effeminately, long, and hung in waves of perfect
jet on either side; the mouth was closed firmly, and deep lines or
rather furrows were traced from its corners to either nostril. The
stranger's beard, of a hue equally black as the hair, was dishevelled
and neglected, but not very long; and one hand, which lay on the sable
robe, was so thin and wan you might have deemed the very starlight could
have shone through it. I did not doubt that it was the recluse whom I
saw; I drew near and accosted him.

"Your blessing, holy Father, and your permission to taste the healing of
your well."

Sudden as was my appearance, and abrupt my voice, the Hermit evinced by
no startled gesture a token of surprise. He turned very slowly round,
cast upon me an indifferent glance, and said, in a sweet and very low
tone,--

"You have my blessing, Stranger: there is water in the cistern; drink,
and be healed."

I dipped the bowl in the basin, and took sparingly of the water. In the
accent and tone of the stranger, my ear, accustomed to the dialects of
many nations, recognized something English; I resolved, therefore, to
address him in my native tongue, rather than the indifferent Italian in
which I had first accosted him.