"Where am I to go?" came the monotonous response.
"You will repair to Monte Cassino, there to serve your novitiate. Your time is to be shortened by special dispensation. At the end of that period you will be called to Rome, to enter the Chapter House of the Order of St. John. It holds out greater honor and privileges than any in the world. You will take your orders directly from His Holiness. The path to glory and to holiness lies open to you. Are you satisfied?"
A moan came from Francesco's lips.
"My strength is failing,—your word,—to God!"
Francesco stood beside his father's death-bed, his arms hanging limply by his side. His damp hair clung closely to his head. His eyes were dull and unseeing.
Like a breath of the evening wind his youth had passed from him. His gaze was not upon his father's face, but turned inwardly upon the great aching void where his happiness had been.
When he spoke his words were low, his tone and his face alike without expression.
"In the sight of God, I promise to become a monk!"
The old man, straining to catch the words, drank them into his soul.