Francis, supported on either side by a friar of his order, kneeling
at her feet.
These objects formed absolutely the entire furniture of the cell.
There was nothing else whatsoever in the room; neither the smallest
fragment of a looking-glass, nor any means or preparation for
ablution whatsoever.
The old monk lay on his back in the bed, wit his head propped rather
highly on a hard straw bolster; and the extreme attenuation of his
body was indicated by the very slight degree in which the clothes
that covered him were raised above the love of the bedstead. On the
coverlet upon his chest, there was a rosary of large beads turned
out of box-wood. The parts of each bead nearest to the string and in
contact with each other were black with the undisturbed dirt and
dust of many years. But the protuberant circumference of each wooden
ball was polished to a rich shining orange-colour by the constant
handling of the fingers.
It seemed both to Signor Fortini and to the Commissary, that there
could be no doubt about it, that the old man was really ill. He was
lying in his frock of thick brown woollen, and the cowl of it was
drawn over his head. He seemed to be suffering from cold, and his
teeth were audibly chattering in his head; and his thin, thin claw-
like hands shook as they clutched his crucifix.
Pages:
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557