They left his countenance paler than before,
"I shall learn to bear it."
A sudden gleam of pity seemed to beam from Romuald's passionless eyes.
"It is a brave beginning of the new life,—for I doubt not you must stay. The word of His Holiness is law. To-night, since collation is over in the refectory, you will sup with me. To-morrow you shall exchange this garb for the simpler one."
Sick at heart, Francesco nodded silent acquiescence.
At this moment a monk entered, carrying a platter which he placed upon a table and, after arranging it according to the Prior's direction, left the latter alone with his guest.
The collation was by no means traditionally meagre. In truth, it seemed to Francesco far above what his fancy about monastic life had led him to expect.
At last when everything upon the trenchers, together with the last flagon of wine, had been done ample justice to, Francesco, after due thanksgiving, arose.
Romuald's gaze had never relinquished the youth during the repast.
"Now to St. Benedict's chapel, wherein already the bell is calling," he said, rising slowly. "After compline you shall be conducted to your cell,—one for yourself within the dormitory overhead. This is the way."