Odo, who, like all neglected children, was quick to note in thedemeanour of his elders any hint of a change in his own condition, hadbeen keenly conscious of the effect produced at Donnaz by the news ofthe Duchess of Pianura's deliverance. Guided perhaps by his mother'sexclamation, he noticed an added zeal in Don Gervaso's teachings and anunction in the manner of his aunts and grandmother, who embraced him asthough they were handling a relic; while the old Marquess, though hetook his grandson seldomer on his rides, would sit staring at him with afrowning tenderness that once found vent in the growl--"Morbleu, buthe's too good for the tonsure!" All this made it clear to Odo that hewas indeed meant for the Church, and he learned without surprise thatthe following spring he was to be sent to the seminary at Asti.

　　With a view to prepare him for this change, the canonesses suggested hisattending them that year on their annual pilgrimage to the sanctuary ofOropa. Thither, for every feast of the Assumption, these pious ladiestravelled in their litter; and Odo had heard from them many tales of themiraculous Black Virgin who drew thousands to her shrine among themountains. They set forth in August, two days before the feast,ascending through chestnut groves to the region of bare rocks; thencedownward across torrents hung with white acacia and along park-likegrassy levels deep in shade. The lively air, the murmur of verdure, theperfume of mown grass in the meadows and the sweet call of the cuckoosfrom every thicket made an enchantment of the way; but Odo's pleasureredoubled when, gaining the high-road to Oropa, they mingled with thelong train of devotees ascending from the plain. Here were pilgrims ofevery condition, from the noble lady of Turin or Asti (for it was thefavourite pilgrimage of the Sardinian court), attended by her physicianand her cicisbeo, to the half-naked goatherd of Val Sesia or Salluzzo;the cheerful farmers of the Milanese, with their wives, in silvernecklaces and hairpins, riding pillion on plump white asses; sickpersons travelling in closed litters or carried on hand-stretchers;crippled beggars obtruding their deformities; confraternities of hoodedpenitents, Franciscans, Capuchins and Poor Clares in dusty companies;jugglers, pedlars, Egyptians and sellers of drugs and amulets. Fromamong these, as the canonesses' litter jogged along, an odd figureadvanced toward Odo, who had obtained leave to do the last mile of thejourney on foot. This was a plump abate in tattered ecclesiasticaldress, his shoes white as a miller's and the perspiration streaking hisface as he laboured along in the dust. He accosted Odo in a soft shrillvoice, begging leave to walk beside the young cavaliere, whom he hadmore than once had the honour of seeing at Pianura; and, in reply to theboy's surprised glance, added, with a swelling of the chest and anabsurd gesture of self-introduction, "But perhaps the cavaliere is nottoo young to have heard of the illustrious Cantapresto, late primosoprano of the ducal theatre of Pianura?"Odo being obliged to avow his ignorance, the fat creature mopped hisbrow and continued with a gasp--"Ah, your excellency, what is fame? Fromglory to obscurity is no farther than from one milestone to another! Noteight years ago, cavaliere, I was followed through the streets ofPianura by a greater crowd than the Duke ever drew after him! But whatthen? The voice goes--it lasts no longer than the bloom of a flower--andwith it goes everything: fortune, credit, consideration, friends andparasites! Not eight years ago, sir--would you believe me?--I wassupping nightly in private with the Bishop, who had nearly quarrelledwith his late Highness for carrying me off by force one evening to hiscasino; I was heaped with dignities and favours; all the poets in thetown composed sonnets in my honour; the Marquess of Trescorre fought aduel about me with the Bishop's nephew, Don Serafino; I attended hislordship to Rome; I spent the villeggiatura at his villa, where I sat atplay with the highest nobles in the land; yet when my voice went,cavaliere, it was on my knees I had to beg of my heartless patron thepaltry favour of the minor orders!" Tears were running down the abate'scheeks, and he paused to wipe them with a corner of tattered bands.

　　Though Odo had been bred in an abhorrence of the theatre, the strangecreature's aspect so pricked his compassion that he asked him what hewas now engaged in; at which Cantapresto piteously cried, "Alas, what amI not engaged in, if the occasion offers? For whatever a man's habit, hewill not wear it long if it cover an empty belly; and he that respectshis calling must find food enough to continue in it. But as for me, sir,I have put a hand to every trade, from composing scenarios for the ducalcompany of Pianura, to writing satirical sonnets for noblemen thatdesire to pass for wits. I've a pretty taste, too, in compilingalmanacks, and when nothing else served I have played the publicscrivener at the street corner; nay, sir, necessity has even driven meto hold the candle in one or two transactions I would not more activelyhave mixed in; and it was to efface the remembrance of one of these--formy conscience is still over-nice for my condition--that I set out onthis laborious pilgrimage."Much of this was unintelligible to Odo; but he was moved by any mentionof Pianura, and in the abate's first pause he risked the question--"Doyou know the hump-backed boy Brutus?"His companion stared and pursed his soft lips.

　　"Brutus?" says he. "Brutus? Is he about the Duke's person?""He lives in the palace," said Odo doubtfully.

　　The fat ecclesiastic clapped a hand to his thigh.

　　"Can it be your excellency has in mind the foundling boy Carlo Gamba?

　　Does the jackanapes call himself Brutus now? He was always full of hisclassical allusions! Why, sir, I think I know him very well; he is evenrumoured to be a brother of Don Lelio Trescorre's, and I believe theDuke has lately given him to the Marquess of Cerveno, for I saw him notlong since in the Marquess's livery at Pontesordo.""Pontesordo?" cried Odo. "It was there I lived.""Did you indeed, cavaliere? But I think you will have been at the Duke'smanor of that name; and it was the hunting-lodge on the edge of thechase that I had in mind. The Marquess uses it, I believe, as a kind ofcasino; though not without risk of a distemper. Indeed, there is muchwonder at his frequenting it, and 'tis said he does so against theDuke's wishes."The name of Pontesordo had set Odo's memories humming like a hive ofbees, and without heeding his companion's allusions he asked--"And didyou see the Momola?"The other looked his perplexity.

　　"She's an Innocent too," Odo hastened to explain. "She is Filomena'sservant at the farm."The abate at this, standing still in the road, screwed up his eyelidsand protruded a relishing lip. "Eh, eh," said he, "the girl from thefarm, you say?" And he gave a chuckle. "You've an eye, cavaliere, you'vean eye," he cried, his soft body shaking with enjoyment; but before Odocould make a guess at his meaning their conversation was interrupted bya sharp call from the litter. The abate at once disappeared in thecrowd, and a moment later the litter had debouched on the grassyquadrangle before the outer gates of the monastery. This space was setin beech-woods, amid which gleamed the white-pillared chapels of the Wayof the Cross; and the devouter pilgrims, dispersed beneath the trees,were ascending from one chapel to another, preparatory to entering thechurch.

　　The quadrangle itself was crowded with people, and the sellers of votiveofferings, in their booths roofed with acacia-boughs, were driving anoisy trade in scapulars and Agnus Deis, images of the Black Virgin ofOropa, silver hearts and crosses, and phials of Jordan water warrantedto effect the immediate conversion of Jews and heretics. In one corner aCarmelite missionary had set up his portable pulpit, and, crucifix inhand, was exhorting the crowd; in another, an improvisatore intonedcanticles to the miraculous Virgin; a barefoot friar sat sellingindulgences at the monastery gate, and pedlars with trays of rosariesand religious prints pushed their way among the pilgrims. Young women ofless pious aspect solicited the attention of the better-dressedtravellers, and jugglers, mountebanks and quacks of every descriptionhung on the outskirts of the square. The sight speedily turned Odo'sthought from his late companion, and the litter coming to a halt he wasleaning forward to observe the antics of a tumbler who had spread hiscarpet beneath the trees, when the abate's face suddenly rose to thesurface of the throng and his hand thrust a crumpled paper between thecurtains of the litter. Odo was quick-witted enough to capture thismissive without attracting the notice of his grand-aunts, and stealing aglance at it, he read--"Cavaliere, I starve. When the illustrious ladiesdescend, for Christ's sake beg a scudo of them for the unhappyCantapresto."By this the litter had disengaged itself and was moving toward the outergates. Odo, aware of the disfavour with which the theatre was viewed atDonnaz, and unable to guess how far the soprano's present habit would beheld to palliate the scandal of his former connection, was perplexed howto communicate his petition to the canonesses. A moment later, however,the question solved itself; for as the aunts descended at the door ofthe rector's lodging, the porter, running to meet them, stumbled on ablack mass under the arcade, and raised the cry that here was a mandropped dead. A crowd gathering, some one called out that it was anecclesiastic had fallen; whereat the great-aunts were hurrying forwardwhen Odo whispered the eldest, Donna Livia, that the sick man was indeedan abate from Pianura. Donna Livia immediately bid her servants lift himinto the porter's lodge, where, with the administering of spirits, thepoor soprano presently revived and cast a drowning glance about thechamber.

　　"Eight years ago, illustrious ladies," he gurgled, "I had nearly diedone night of a surfeit of ortolans; and now it is of a surfeit ofemptiness that I am perishing."The ladies at this, with exclamations of pity, called on thelay-brothers for broth and cordials, and bidding the porter enquire moreparticularly into the history of the unhappy ecclesiastic, hastened awaywith Odo to the rector's parlour.

　　Next morning betimes all were afoot for the procession, which thecanonesses were to witness from the monastery windows. The apothecaryhad brought word that the abate, whose seizure was indeed the result ofhunger, was still too weak to rise; and Donna Livia, eager to open herdevotions with an act of pity, pressed a sequin in the man's hand, andbid him spare no care for the sufferer's comfort.

　　This sent Odo in a cheerful mood to the red-hung windows, whence,peering between the folds of his aunts' gala habits, he admired thegreat court enclosed in nobly-ordered cloisters and strewn with freshherbs and flowers. Thence one of the rector's chaplains conducted themto the church, placing them, in company with the monastery's other nobleguests, in a tribune constructed above the choir. It was Odo's firstsight of a great religious ceremony, and as he looked down on the churchglimmering with votive offerings and gold-fringed draperies, and seenthrough rolling incense in which the altar-candles swam like starsreflected in a river, he felt an almost sensual thrill of pleasure atthe thought that his life was to be passed amid scenes of such mysticbeauty. The sweet singing of the choir raised his spirit to a higherview of the scene; and the sight of the huddled misery on the floor ofthe church revived in him the old longing for the Franciscan cowl.

　　From these raptures he was speedily diverted by the sight awaiting himat the conclusion of the mass. Hardly had the spectators returned to therector's windows when, the doors of the church swinging open, aprocession headed by the rector himself descended the steps and began tomake the circuit of the court. Odo's eyes swam with the splendour ofthis burst of banners, images and jewelled reliquaries, surmounting thelong train of tonsured heads and bathed in a light almost blinding afterthe mild penumbra of the church. As the monks advanced, the pilgrims,pouring after them, filled the court with a dark undulating mass throughwhich the procession wound like a ray of sunlight down the brown bosomof a torrent. Branches of oleander swung in the air, devout cries hailedthe approach of the Black Madonna's canopy, and hoarse voices swelled toa roar the measured litanies of the friars.

　　The ceremonies over, Odo, with the canonesses, set out to visit thechapels studding the beech-knoll above the monastic buildings. Passingout of Juvara's great portico they stood a moment above the grassycommon, which presented a scene in curious contrast to that they hadjust quitted. Here refreshment-booths had been set up, musicians werefiddling, jugglers unrolling their carpets, dentists shouting out themerits of their panaceas, and light women drinking with the liveriedservants of the nobility. The very cripples who had groaned the loudestin church now rollicked with the mountebanks and dancers; and no traceremained of the celebration just concluded but the medals and relicsstrung about the necks of those engaged in these gross diversions.

　　It was strange to pass from this scene to the solitude of the grove,where, in a twilight rustling with streams, the chapels lifted theirwhite porches. Peering through the grated door of each little edifice,Odo beheld within a group of terra-cotta figures representing some sceneof the Passion--here a Last Supper, with a tigerish Judas and a SaintJohn resting his yellow curls on his Master's bosom, there an Entombmentor a group of stricken Maries. These figures, though rudely modelled anddaubed with bright colours, yet, by a vivacity of attitude and gesturewhich the mystery of their setting enhanced, conveyed a thrillingimpression of the sacred scenes set forth; and Odo was yet at an agewhen the distinction between flesh-and-blood and its plasticcounterfeits is not clearly defined, or when at least the sculpturedimage is still a mysterious half-sentient thing, denizen of some strangeborderland between art and life. It seemed to him, as he gazed throughthe chapel gratings, that those long-distant episodes of the divinetragedy had been here preserved in some miraculous state of suspendedanimation, and as he climbed from one shrine to another he had the senseof treading the actual stones of Gethsemane and Calvary.

　　As was usual with him, the impressions of the moment had effaced thosepreceding it, and it was almost with surprise that, at the rector'sdoor, he beheld the primo soprano of Pianura totter forth to the litterand offer his knee as a step for the canonesses. The charitable ladiescried out on him for this imprudence, and his pallor still givingevidence of distress, he was bidden to wait on them after supper withhis story. He presented himself promptly in the parlour, and beingquestioned as to his condition at once rashly proclaimed his formerconnection with the ducal theatre of Pianura. No avowal could have beenmore disastrous to his cause. The canonesses crossed themselves withhorror, and the abate, seeing his mistake, hastened to repair it byexclaiming--"What, ladies, would you punish me for following a vocationto which my frivolous parents condemned me when I was too young toresist their purpose? And have not my subsequent sufferings, my penancesand pilgrimages, and the state to which they have reduced me,sufficiently effaced the record of an involuntary error?"Seeing the effect of this appeal the abate made haste to follow up hisadvantage. "Ah, illustrious ladies," he cried, "am I not a livingexample of the fate of those who leave all to follow righteousness? Forwhile I remained on the stage, among the most dissolute surroundings,fortune showered me with every benefit she heaps on her favourites. Ihad my seat at every table in Pianura; the Duke's chair to carry me tothe theatre; and more money than I could devise how to spend; while nowthat I have resigned my calling to embrace the religious life, you seeme reduced to begging a crust from the very mendicants I formerlynourished. For," said he, moved to tears by his own recital, "mysuperfluity was always spent in buying the prayers of the unfortunate,and to judge how I was esteemed by those acquainted with my privatebehaviour you need only learn that, on my renouncing the stage, 'twasthe Bishop of Pianura who himself accorded me the tonsure."This discourse, which Odo admired for its adroitness, visibly excitedthe commiseration of the ladies; but at mention of the Bishop, DonnaLivia exchanged a glance with her sister, who enquired, with a quaintair of astuteness, "But how comes it, abate, that with so powerful aprotector you have been exposed to such incredible reverses?"Cantapresto rolled a meaning eye.

　　"Alas, madam, it was through my protector that misfortune attacked me;for his lordship having appointed me secretary to his favourite nephew,Don Serafino, that imprudent nobleman required of me services soincompatible with my cloth that disobedience became a duty; whereupon,not satisfied with dismissing me in disgrace, he punished me byblackening my character to his uncle. To defend myself was to traduceDon Serafino; and rather than reveal his courses to the Bishop I sank tothe state in which you see me; a state," he added with emotion, "that Ihave travelled this long way to commend to the adorable pity of Herwhose Son had not where to lay His head."This stroke visibly touched the canonesses, still soft from themacerations of the morning; and Donna Livia compassionately asked how hehad subsisted since his rupture with the Bishop.

　　"Madam, by the sale of my talents in any service not at odds with mycalling: as the compiling of pious almanacks, the inditing of rhymedlitanies and canticles, and even the construction of theatricalpieces"--the ladies lifted hands of reprobation--"of theatrical pieces,"Cantapresto impressively repeated, "for the use of the Carmelite nuns ofPianura. But," said he with a deprecating smile, "the wages of virtueare less liberal than those of sin, and spite of a versatility I think Imay honestly claim, I have often had to subsist on the gifts of thepious, and sometimes, madam, to starve on their compassion."This ready discourse, and the soprano's evident distress, so worked onthe canonesses that, having little money at their disposal, it wasfixed, after some private consultation, that he should attend them toDonnaz, where Don Gervaso, in consideration of his edifying conduct inrenouncing the stage, might be interested in helping him to a situation;and when the little party set forth from Oropa, the abate Cantaprestoclosed the procession on one of the baggage-mules, with Odo ridingpillion at his back. Good fortune loosened the poor soprano's tongue,and as soon as the canonesses' litter was a safe distance ahead he beganto beguile the way with fragments of reminiscence and adventure. Thoughfew of his allusions were clear to Odo, the glimpse they gave of themotley theatrical life of the north Italian cities--the quarrels betweenGoldoni and the supporters of the expiring commedia dell' arte--therivalries of the prime donne and the arrogance of the popularcomedians--all these peeps into a tinsel world of mirth, cabal andfolly, enlivened by the recurring names of the Four Masks, thoselingering gods of the older dispensation, so lured the boy's fancy andset free his vagrant wonder, that he was almost sorry to see the keep ofDonnaz reddening in the second evening's sunset.

　　Such regrets, however, their arrival at the castle soon effaced; for inthe doorway stood the old Marquess, a letter in hand, who springingforward caught his grandson by the shoulders, and cried with his greatboar-hunting shout, "Cavaliere, you are heir-presumptive of Pianura!"