saint should be a layman. This was moreover his own opinion, and Benedetto's repugnance to a monastic life seemed to him providential. The coming of the woman seemed almost providential also, forcing him as it did to leave the convent. But what was happening out on the hills? What words was God uttering in his heart? And if———
This unexpected, formidable if flashing into his mind stopped the ponderer in his slow walk. "Magister adest et vocat te!" Perhaps the Divine Master Himself was even now calling Benedetto to serve Him in the habit of a monk.
He ceased thinking, terrified, and, having set the tiny lantern down, passed from the chapter-hall into the church, directing his steps towards the chapel of the Sacrament. With that dignity of which no internal storm could rob his refined bearing and the lofty beauty of his face, he sank upon his knees at the desk which stands in the centre of the chapel, between the four columns, under the lamp, raising his eyes to the tabernacle.
The Teacher of the Way, of Truth, of Life, the Beloved of the soul, was there, and sleeping, as He had slept on that stormy night on the Lake of Gennesaret, between Gadara and Galilee, in the bark which other wave-tossed barks followed through the roaring darkness. He was there, praying as on that other night, alone, on the hillside. He was there, saying with His sweet eternal voice: "Come unto Me all ye who suffer, all ye who are heavy laden, come unto Me." He was there and
