He held up the little tin cross that he had bought from Domenichino. Montanelli took it from his hand, and, re-entering the chancel, laid it for a moment on the altar. “Take it, my son,” he said, “and be at rest, for the Lord is tender and pitiful. Go to Rome, and ask the blessing of His minister, the Holy Father. Peace be with you!” The Gadfly bent his head to receive the benediction, and turned slowly away. “Stop!” said Montanelli. He was standing with one hand on the chancel rail. “When you receive the Holy Eucharist in Rome,” he said, “pray for one in deep affliction--for one on whose soul the hand of the Lord is heavy.” There were almost tears in his voice, and the Gadfly's resolution wavered. Another instant and he would have betrayed himself. Then the thought of the variety-show came up again, and he remembered, like Jonah, that he did well to be angry. “Who am I, that He should hear my prayers? A leper and an outcast! If I could bring to His throne, as Your Eminence can, the offering of a holy life--of a soul without spot or secret shame------” Montanelli turned abruptly away. “I have only one offering to give,” he said; “a broken heart.” ***** A few days later the Gadfly returned to Florence in the diligence from Pistoja. He went straight to Gemma's lodgings, but she was out. Leaving a message that he would return in the morning he went home, sincerely hoping that he should not again find his study invaded by Zita. Her jealous reproaches would act on his nerves, if he were to hear much of them to-night, like the rasping of a dentist's file. “Good-evening, Bianca,” he said when the maid-servant opened the door. “Has Mme. Reni been here to-day?” She stared at him blankly “Mme. Reni? Has she come back, then, sir?” “What do you mean?” he asked with a frown, stopping short on the mat. “She went away quite suddenly, just after you did, and left all her things behind her. She never so much as said she was going.” “Just after I did? What, a f-fortnight ago?” “Yes, sir, the same day; and her things are lying about higgledy-piggledy. All the neighbours are talking about it.” He turned away from the door-step without speaking, and went hastily down the lane to the house where Zita had been lodging. In her rooms nothing had been touched; all the presents that he had given her were in their usual places; there was no letter or scrap of writing anywhere. “If you please, sir,” said Bianca, putting her head in at the door, “there's an old woman----” He turned round fiercely. “What do you want here--following me about?” “An old woman wishes to see you.” “What does she want? Tell her I c-can't see her; I'm busy.” “She has been coming nearly every evening since you went away, sir, always asking when you would come back.” “Ask her w-what her business is. No; never mind; I suppose I must go myself.”