Suddenly a scowl darkened Romuald's brow, and from the letter in his trembling hands his dimmed eyes flashed upon the youth. Francesco wondered. It was not long before he learned.
Romuald, supporting his right arm on the table, turned to the youth.
"You then are the son of Gregorio Villani! And you think to live here amongst us, to enjoy the peace and the solitude of these cloisters, whose life-long enemy your father has been!"
At the Prior's words Francesco had started.
"I know nothing of my father's quarrels, nothing of the quarrels of the monks," he said.
The Prior nodded absently.
"You were raised at the Court of Avellino?"
"Such was my father's will!"
Romuald looked up at him curiously.
"And now, his will is to make of you a monk, to do penance for his own transgressions!"