Have I not heard of your smiles and your contentment?
Whither did you stray this morning?
Did you go into the wood to say your orisons ?' Veranilda turned to the priest.
'Servant of God I Hear me, unhappy that I am!' With a gesture of entreaty she flung out her hands, and, in doing so, saw that one of them was red.

Her woebegone look changed to terror.
'What is this?
His blood is upon me--on my hand, my garment.

When did I touch him?
Holy father, whither has he gone?
Does he live?
Oh, tell me if he lives!' 'Come hence with me,' said Gaudiosus.

'Come where I may hear you utter the truth before God.' But Veranilda was as one distraught.

She threw herself on to her knees.
'Tell me he lives.