And he made a movement to take the Abbot’s hand and kiss it.
“One moment,” said the Abbot, frowning, withdrawing and raising his hand. “What are you doing here?”
“I work in the kitchen garden,” Benedetto replied.
“Fool!” exclaimed the Abbot. “I ask what you are doing here outside my door?”
“I was coming to see you, Padre.”
“Who told you to come to me?”
“Don Clemente.”
The Abbot was silent, and studied the kneeling man for some time; then he grumbled something incomprehensible, and offered him his hand to kiss.
“Rise!” said he, still sharply. “Come in. Close the door.”
When Benedetto had entered the Abbot appeared to forget him. He put on his glasses and began turning over the leaves of a book and glancing through the papers on his desk. In an attitude of soldierly respect, holding himself very erect, Benedetto stood, waiting for him to speak.