There followed a silence. The group in the loggia seemed for the moment mesmerised by the priest's suave calm voice, steady eyes and noble expression, A bell rang slowly and sweetly--a call to prayer in some not far distant monastery, and the first glimmer of the stars began to sparkle faintly in the darkening heavens. A little sigh from Morgana stirred the stillness. "If one could always live in this sort of mood!" she suddenly exclaimed--"This lovely peace in the glow of the sunset and the perfume of the flowers!--and you, Don Aloysius, talking beautiful things!--why then, one would be perpetually happy and good! But such living would not be life!--one must go with the time--" Don Aloysius smiled indulgently. "Must one? Is it so vitally necessary? If I might take the liberty to go on speaking I would tell you a story--a mere tradition--but it might weary you--" A general chorus of protest from all present assured him of their eagerness to hear. "As if YOU could weary anybody!" Morgana said. "You never do--only you have an effect upon ME which is not very flattering to my self-love!--you make me feel so small!" You ARE small, physically"--said Don Aloysius--Do you mind that? Small things are always sweetest!" She flushed, and turned her head away as she caught the Marchese Rivardi's eyes fixed upon her. "You should not make pretty compliments to a woman, reverend father!" she said, lightly--"It is not your vocation!" His grave face brightened and he laughed with real heartiness. "Dear lady, what do you know of my vocation?" he asked--"Will you teach it to me? No!--I am sure you will not try! Listen now!--as you all give me permission--let me tell you of certain people who once 'went with the time'--and decided to stop en route, and are still at the stopping-place. Perhaps some of you who travel far and often, have heard of the Brazen City?" Each one looked at the other enquiringly, but with no responsive result.