"Poor pilgrims, like yourselves," replied Paulo, "and can tell as little. Good morrow, fathers, yonder peeps the dawn!"
He came up with his master, who had hurried forward with Ellena, and who now severely reproved his indiscretion; while the voices of the Carmelites, singing the mattin-hymn, sunk away among the rocks, and the quietness of solitude returned.
"Thank heaven! we are quit of this adventure," said Vivaldi.
"And now we have only the bridge to get over," rejoined Paulo, "and, I hope, we shall all be safe."
They were now at the entrance of it; as they passed the trembling planks, and looked up the glen, a party of people appeared advancing on the road the fugitives had left, and a chorus of other voices than those of the Carmelites, were heard mingling with the hollow sound of the waters.
Ellena, again alarmed, hastened forward, and Vivaldi, though he endeavoured to appease her apprehension of pursuit, encouraged her speed.
"These are nothing but more pilgrims, Signora," said Paulo, "or they would not send such loud shouts before them; they must needs think we can hear."
The travellers proceeded as fast as the broken road would permit; and were soon beyond the reach of the voices; but as Paulo turned to look whether the party was within sight, he perceived two persons, wrapt in cloaks, advancing under the brow of the cliffs, and within a few paces of his horse's heels. Before he could give notice to his master, they were at his side.
"Are you returning from the shrine of our Lady?" said one of them.
Vivaldi, startled by the voice, looked round, and demanded who asked the question?