Don Clemente grew very red while he explained his action.

He had seen the young girl at Santa Scolastica with another person.

His movement had been involuntary.

The other person was now far away.

"We shall not meet again," said he, "because as soon as I have sent you the food, and spoken to these people, I must start for Santa Scolastica." In speaking of going to Subiaco or elsewhere, Benedetto had said "perhaps that, perhaps something else," with an accent so full of meaning that, when Don Clemente bade him farewell, he murmured: "Are you thinking of Rome ?" Instead of answering, Benedetto gently took from his hands the bundle containing the poor tunic, which had been bestowed and then withdrawn, and with trembling hands raised it to his lips, pressing them to it; he let them rest there a long time.
Was it regret for the days of peace, of labour, of prayer, of gospel words?
Was it the anticipation of a luminous hour in the future?
He gave the bundle back into his master's hands.
"Farewell!" said he.
Don Clemente hastened away.
The room the master of the house had set apart for Benedetto's use contained a large sofa, a small square table, covered with a yellowish cloth; over which a blue floral pattern sprawled; a few shaky chairs; one or two armchairs, their stuffing showing through the rents in the old and faded leather; and two portraits of bewigged ancestors in tarnished frames.