How far the dispute might have gone between Antonio and Fra Discreto or Nicolo, had it remained uninterrupted much longer, it is difficult to say, for the worthy monk was evidently waxing irate; but at that moment came, almost running forth from the gates, a portly, jovial-looking friar of some fifty-five or sixty years of age, who took Antonio in his arms, and gave him a mighty hug. "Welcome! welcome, my son!" cried Fra Benevole, for he it was; "thrice welcome at this moment, when we need better comfort than wine can give us--though, Heaven bless the Pulciano, it was the only thing that did me good at first. Now this is your young lord, I warrant, of whom you told me so much, and whom the signorina loves so well." The very reference to Leonora's name brought down upon the jovial monk a whole host of questions, but he gave a suspicious look to the old man, who still continued to oppress the rock, and he likewise professed inability to answer. But there was something in his manner which renewed hope in the bosom of Lorenzo, though it did not remove apprehension. He had spoken of Leonora in the present tense too, not in the past, and that was something. "But come to my cell," he cried; "come and rest, and have some light refreshment; for though I must touch nothing myself, for these three hours, I can always cater for my friends." His face was turned toward Lorenzo as he spoke, as if the invitation was principally directed toward him, and the young nobleman answered, "I am afraid, good father, I must await the return of Fra Tomaso, who has gone to bear a message to the prior." "Oh, Brother Thomas will know where to find you," replied Benevole. "It was he who told me of your arrival and sent me to you. He will be sure to seek you first in my cell." But the monk's hospitable intentions were frustrated by the appearance of Tomaso himself, followed by no less dignified a person than the prior himself, a nobleman by birth and a churchman of fair reputation. Lorenzo dismounted to meet him, and their greetings were courteous, if not warm. "I will beg you, my lord," the prior said, "to repose in my apartments for a time, while your horses and men are cared for by the monastery. All attention shall be paid to their wants and comfort, and if you will explain to Brother Benevole where they are exactly, he will have them brought up to the strangers' lodging." "They are down by the ruins of the villa," said Lorenzo, "and one man must remain there to watch that brutal band, for, God willing, they shall not escape punishment. But I beseech you, reverend father, give my mind some ease as to the fate----" The prior bowed his head with graceful dignity, saying, "Of that presently, my son; let us always trust in God. As to your sentinel, neither he nor any need remain. We have a watchman in the campanile of the church. He can see farther than any one below, and will mark everything at least as well. I lead the way."