"I am waiting!" growled Raniero, eyeing the other fiercely. "Speak the prayer for the dying!"
Francesco moved not. He looked at the sick man spellbound, as a bird would at a snake. The words he wanted to speak died in the utterance.
"I have never questioned one of the Church's doctrines," said Raniero. "Apparently you are more of a heretic than I."—
"It may well be," said Francesco absently.
The other eyed him coldly, and a silence fell. In the heart of it grew and deepened a significance.
At last Raniero spoke.
"Of all men living, I have hated you the most!"
He was rolling his eyes fearfully; the face was on guard.
"I have never injured you," replied Francesco. "Look within my heart. Naught is there towards you but compassion!"
"Looking in—your heart, I find therein the image—of my wife, Ilaria. As ever,—looking in her heart,—I find therein—your own!"