'What? Why, what the other brethren do. Pax multa in cella. The old abbot was right. There is yonder a peace for which I am craving now that my one task here is safely ended. In the world there is nothing for me.'
'Nothing!' She was amazed. 'And in five years you have won so much!'
'Nothing that I covet,' he answered gently. 'It is all vanity, all madness, greed, and bloodlust. I was not made for worldliness, and but for you I should never have known it. Now I have done.'
'And your dominions, Gavi and Valsassina?'
'I'll bestow them upon you, madonna, if you will deign to accept a parting gift from these hands.'
'There was a long pause. She had drawn back a little. He could not see her face. 'You have the fever, I think,' she said presently in an odd voice. 'It is your hurt.'
He sighed. 'Aye, you would think so. It is difficult for one reared in the world to understand that a man's eyes should remain undazzled by its glitter. Yet, believe me, I leave it with but one regret.'
'And that?' The question came breathlessly upon a whisper.
'That the purpose for which I entered it remains unfulfilled. That I have learnt no Greek.'
Again there was a pause. Then she moved forward, rustling a little, and came directly into his line of vision.