"Whither God shall guide you I do not know," the Abbot continued. "Perhaps through dark and stony places. It may even be that for long years you will be unable to exercise your priesthood and to follow up your religious life. But, if such should be His trial of you, remember this. Our blessed Lord Himself did not break the Bread and take the Cup until the night before He died. Go in peace." Throughout the High Mass the flame burned ever more and more hotly in Antonio's breast. He seemed, like Saint Teresa, to have the very stuff of his heart on fire. From the Introit to the Communion he duly sang every note that belonged to his duty; but, as the sacred mysteries proceeded, he felt as if only his body remained on the earth, and that his spirit was dwelling with the Abbot's in a supernal world of pure ecstasy. The Viscount, the captain, and half the soldiers were present at the Mass, some of them assisting with devotion. They salved their consciences by reminding themselves that the Almighty was more powerful than the Government in Lisbon, and that He could be left to look after His own business. As for the Viscount and the captain, in some amazing fashion they had made up their quarrel of the night before, and it was evident that a mysterious understanding existed between them. As the Mass neared its close their nervousness could not be concealed. After all, the soldiers were Catholics; for even the most irreligious of them would not wish to die without a priest. The Viscount repeatedly whispered to the captain his fear that the Abbot was meditating a coup, and that he would suddenly win a strong bodyguard to his defense by threatening the despoilers with excommunication. After the last gospel the Abbot advanced and stood leaning on his crozier. The Viscount went very red; the captain nearly white. But the bolt did not fall. In solemn tones the venerable man simply repeated the words of Jeremias: "_Hereditas nostra versa est ad alienos; domus nostrae ad extraneos._"* * "Our inheritance is turned to aliens; our houses to strangers." After a long pause he stretched out a fatherly hand and pleaded in the words of Saint Peter: "_Et ipsi tamquam lapides vivi superaedificamini, domus spiritualis, sacerdotium sanctum, offerre spirituales hostias acceptabiles Deo per Jesum Christum._"* * "Be ye also as living stones built up, a spiritual house, a holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God by Jesus Christ." That was all. But it was too much for the Viscount and the captain. The captain's Latin was restricted to a confused recollection of an assertion of Julius Cæsar's to the effect that all Gaul is divided into three parts, while the Viscount, who fully believed that _nil_ meant "never," knew the single phrase _Nil desperandum_. Accordingly, as the Abbot retired to make his thanksgiving, they laid their puzzled heads together, wondering what secret words of command he had spoken to his followers.