"Come out quickly," cried the gatekeeper. "A stranger asks to be admitted--I dared not open the gate without your permission."
The Superior threw on his frock and cowl and stepped out.
"An old man and a child--as he says--" continued the porter, as they crossed the courtyard.
"Open the gate," said the Superior, as the wail of an infant apprised him that the stranger outside had spoken the truth. The porter obeyed and at the door, with the infant on one arm and in his other hand the torch, stood the old monk from St. Valentine's.
"Blessed be the Lord Christ! Brother Florentinus! How come you here this wild night--and what have we here for a whimpering visitor?" cried the Superior, admitting the old man.
"Aye, you would never have thought that my stiff old arms would be bringing round such a fragile, wriggling thing.--But take me quickly to the reverend Abbot that we may take counsel in the matter--for the child is hungry and needs womanly care."
"The bell will soon call to matins," said the Superior. "Wait here in the court-yard till the first stroke, and then you will be sure that no bad spirit crosses the threshold with you. Meanwhile I will go and announce you to his reverence, the Abbot."
"Aye, you are right, brother, the child must enter the convent at a lucky hour, for he must stay in for ever."
The Superior asked no more--the brethren were accustomed to suppress all curiosity and to accept inexplicable occurrences in silence. He went in and the gate-keeper remained outside with the old man. They stood there expectant, till the first stroke should sound that should scare away the hordes of bad night-spirits.
Florentinus extinguished his torch, for the light from the porter's window lighted up the narrow court-yard.