The stranger hesitated, and looked significantly at the two monks. “I begged to be allowed to show them to your worship alone,” said he.
“These two fathers are consecrated priests, and may therefore dare to look upon the holy treasures,” said the prior, with a scarcely perceptible smile.
“I solemnly swore to the man from whom I bought these relics that I would only show them to the most worthy member of your order; he was a very pious man, and bitter necessity alone forced him to sell his precious treasures; he prayed to God to grant them a worthy place, and never to allow them to be desecrated by unholy eyes or hands. As the most holy and worthy brother is ever chosen to be the prior, I swore to show the relics only to the prior. Your worship will surely not ask me to break my oath?”
The prior made no answer, but nodded to the two monks, who silently left the room.
“And now, sir, show your treasures,” said the prior, as the door closed behind them.
“Your worship,” said the stranger, rapidly, “I have nothing but a letter from the Abbe Bastiani, which I was to give to your own hands.” He drew a letter from his bosom, which he handed to the prior, who received it with anxious haste and hid it in his robe; then, with quick but noiseless steps he passed hastily through the room, and with a rapid movement dashed open the door; a low cry was heard, and a black figure tumbled back upon the floor.
“Ah! is that you, father guardian?” said the prior, in a tone of sympathy. “I fear that I hurt you.”
“Not so, your worship; I only returned to say to you that it is the hour for dinner, and the pious brothers are already assembled in the hall.”
“And I opened the door to call after you, father, and entreat you to take my place at the table. As I am in the act of looking at these holy relics, and touching them, I dare not soil my hands so soon afterward with earthly food. You will, therefore, kindly take my place, and I will not appear till the evening meal. Go, then, worthy brother, and may God bless you richly.” He bowed and raising his right hand, made the sign of the cross, while the father guardian slowly, and with a frowning brow, passed through the room. Having reached the opposite door, he paused and looked back; but seeing the prior still standing upon the threshold of his room, and gazing after him, he dashed open the door and disappeared. “Now, sir,” said the prior, entering and closing the door carefully, “we are alone, and I am ready to listen to you.”
“I pray your worship to read first the letter of your brother, the Abbe Bastiani.”