“Ay. Beauty is a curse to most of ye. Well, thou mayst mask thine eyes; no more.”
On this concession she seized his hand, and was about to kiss it; but he snatched it rudely from her.
“What would ye do? That hand handled the eucharist but an hour agone: is it fit for such as thou to touch it?”
“Ah, no. But oh, go not without giving your penitent daughter your blessing.”
“Time enow to ask it when you come back from Loretto.”
Thus that marvellous occurrence by Tiber's banks left its mark on all the actors, as prodigies are said to do. The assassin, softened by saving the life he was paid to take, turned from the stiletto to the porter's knot. The princess went barefoot to Loretto, weeping her crime and washing the feet of base-born men.
And Gerard, carried from the Tiber into that convent a suicide, now passed for a young saint within its walls.
Loving but experienced eyes were on him.
Upon a shorter probation than usual he was admitted to priest's orders.
And soon after took the monastic vows, and became a friar of St. Dominic.