“It has not been an arduous profession,” said Fra Felice. “They spoke to me, and I answered them; that was all. They knew that every word has its number, and they noticed what I said and played accordingly. I never knew how it happened, Donna Elisa; it was a gift from God.” “You will be a great loss to the poor people, Fra Felice,” said Donna Elisa. Fra Felice smiled. “They care nothing for me on Sunday and Monday, when there has just been a drawing,” he said. “But they come on Thursday and Friday and on Saturday morning, because there is a drawing every Saturday.” Donna Elisa began to be anxious, because the dying man thought of nothing but that. Suddenly there flashed across her memory thoughts of one and another who had lost in the lottery, and she remembered several who had played away all their prosperity. She wished to turn his thoughts from that sinful lottery business. “You said that you wished to speak of your will, Fra Felice.” “But it is because I have so many friends that it is hard for me to know to whom I shall give the legacy. Shall I give it to those who have baked sweet cakes for me, or to those who have offered me artichokes, browned in sweet oil? Or shall I bequeath it to the sisters of charity who nursed me when I was ill?” “Have you much to give away, Fra Felice?” “It will do, Donna Elisa. It will do.” Fra Felice seemed to be worse again; he lay silent with panting breast. “I had also wished to give it to all poor, homeless monks, who had lost their monasteries,” he whispered. And then after thinking for a while: “I should also have liked to give it to the good old man in Rome. He, you know, who watches over us all.” “Are you so rich, Fra Felice?” said Donna Elisa. “I have enough, Donna Elisa; I have enough.” He closed his eyes, and rested for a while; then he said:-- “I want to give it to everybody, Donna Elisa.” He acquired new strength at the thought; a slight flush was again visible in his cheeks, and he raised himself on his elbow. “See here, Donna Elisa,” he said, while he thrust his hand into his cloak and drew out a sealed envelope, which he handed to her, “you shall go and give this to the syndic, to the syndic of Diamante. “Here, Donna Elisa,” said Fra Felice, “here are the five numbers that win next Saturday. They have been revealed to me, and I have written them down. And the syndic shall take these numbers and have them fastened up on the Roman Gate, where everything of importance is published. And he shall let the people know that it is my testament. I bequeath it to the people. Five winning numbers, a whole quintern, Donna Elisa!” Donna Elisa took the envelope and promised to give it to the syndic. She could do nothing else, for poor Fra Felice had not many minutes left to live. “When Saturday comes,” said Fra Felice, “there will be many who will think of Fra Felice. ‘Can old Fra Felice have deceived us?’ they will ask themselves. ‘Can it be possible for us to win the whole quintern?’