At
last he said, in a stifled voice:
"Pray for me, pray that the Lord may enlighten me!"
A tear trembled in each of the beautiful, gentle eyes of the old man,
who had never wilfully soiled himself with an impure thought, who was
full of the sweetness of charity. Benedetto was so deeply moved that he
could not speak.
"Come again," the Pope said, "We must converse together again."
"When, Your Holiness?"
"Soon, I will summon you."
Meanwhile the advancing shadows had engulfed the white figure and the
black one. His Holiness placed his hand on Benedetto's shoulder and
asked him softly, almost hesitatingly:
"Do you remember the end of your vision?"
Benedetto, bowing his head, answered, also in a low tone:
"_Nescio diem, neque horam_."
"The words are not in the manuscript," His Holiness continued; "but do
you remember?"
Benedetto murmured:
"In the Benedictine habit, on the bare earth, in the shade of a tree."
"Should it happen thus," the Holy Father said gently, "I would wish to
bless you in that moment. Then I shall be awaiting you in Heaven.
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