Whilst a man might have counted ten stood he so--she seeing nothing of the
strange transfiguration that had come over him, for her eyes were downcast
as ever. Then quite slowly, his hands unclenched, his arms fell limply to
his sides, his head sank forward upon his breast, and his figure bowed
itself lower than was usual. Quite suddenly, quite softly, almost as a man
who swoons, he sank down again into the chair from which he had risen.
He set his elbows on the table, and took his head in his hands. A groan
escaped him. She heard it, and looked at him in her furtive way.
"You are moved by this knowledge, Fra Gervasio," she said and sighed. "I
have told you this--and you, Agostino--that you may know how deep, how
ineradicable is my purpose. You were a votive offering, Agostino; you were
vowed to the service of God that your father's life might be spared, years
ago, ere you were born. From the very edge of death was your father
brought back to life and strength. He would have used that life and that
strength to cheat God of the price of His boon to me."
"And if," Fra Gervasio questioned almost fiercely, "Agostino in the end
should have no vocation, should have no call to such a life?"
She looked at him very wistfully, almost pityingly. "How should that be?"
she asked.
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