"He is not a
father?" Jeanne repeated.
Noemi trembled at the strange ring in her friend's voice. She herself
had not noticed the figure standing erect in the shadow of the wall.
"Who?" she asked.
The monk, who, in the meantime, had opened the gate, misunderstood her,
and thought she referred to something that had been said before.
"No," he answered. "The authentic portrait of St. Francis is not here.
Lower down there is a St. Francis painted by the Cavalier Manente. You
will see it presently. Please come in."
"What is it?" Noemi said softly to Jeanne. Her friend having answered
in a calmer voice, "Nothing," she passed her, entering the chapel, and
listened to the monk's explanations. Then the black figure moved away
from the wall. Jeanne saw it slowly mounting in the dim light, under the
pointed arches. On the upper landing the figure turned to the right,
and disappeared, to reappear almost immediately on an arm of the stair,
crossing the slanting background of the scene, and brilliant in the
light of an invisible window. The figure mounted slowly, almost wearily.
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