And so it came to pass. Agnes rose from prayer with an experience which has been common to the members of the True Invisible Church, whether Catholic, Greek, or Protestant. "In the day when I cried Thou answeredst me, and strengthenedst me with strength in my soul." She had that vivid sense of the sustaining presence and sympathy of an Almighty Saviour which is the substance of which all religious forms and appliances are the shadows; her soul was stayed on God, and was at peace, as truly as if she had been the veriest Puritan maiden that ever worshipped in a New-England meeting-house. She felt a calm superiority to all things earthly,--a profound reliance on that invisible aid which comes from God alone. She was standing at her window, deep in thought, when Giulietta entered,--fresh and blooming,--bearing the breakfast-tray. "Come, my little princess, here I am," she said, "with your breakfast! How do you find yourself, this morning?" Agnes came towards her. "Bless us, how grave we are!" said Giulietta. "What has come over us?" "Giulietta, have you seen poor grandmamma this morning?" "Poor grandmamma!" said Giulietta, mimicking the sad tone in which Agnes spoke,--"to be sure I have. I left her making a hearty breakfast. So fall to, and do the same,--for you don't know who may come to see you this morning." "Giulietta, is he here?" "He!" said Giulietta, laughing. "Do hear the little bird! It begins to chirp already! No, he is not here yet; but Pietro says he will come soon, and Pietro knows all his movements." "Pietro is your husband?" said Agnes, inquiringly. "Yes, to be sure,--and a pretty good one, too, as men go," said Giulietta. "They are sorry bargains, the best of them. But you'll get a prize, if you play your cards well. Do you know that the King of Naples and the King of France have both sent messages to our captain? Our men hold all the passes between Rome and Naples, and so every one sees the sense of gaining our captain's favor. But eat your breakfast, little one, while I go and see to Pietro and the men." So saying, she bustled out of the room, locking the door behind her. Agnes took a little bread and water,--resolved to fast and pray, as the only defence against the danger in which she stood. After breakfasting, she retired into the inner room, and, opening the window, sat down and looked out on the prospect, and then, in a low voice, began singing a hymn of Savonarola's, which had been taught her by her uncle. It was entitled "Christ's Call to the Soul." The words were conceived in that tender spirit of mystical devotion which characterizes all this class of productions. "Fair soul, created in the primal hour, Once pure and grand, And for whose sake I left my throne and power At God's right hand, By this sad heart pierced through because I loved thee, Let love and mercy to contrition move thee!