To Rowland, at any rate, under the emotion of
that moment, it seemed blessedly opportune. He rose and approached the
monk, and laid his hand on his arm.
"My brother," he said, "did you ever see the Devil?"
The frate gazed, gravely, and crossed himself. "Heaven forbid!"
"He was here," Rowland went on, "here in this lovely garden, as he was
once in Paradise, half an hour ago. But have no fear; I drove him out."
And Rowland stooped and picked up his hat, which had rolled away into a
bed of cyclamen, in vague symbolism of an actual physical tussle.
"You have been tempted, my brother?" asked the friar, tenderly.
"Hideously!"
"And you have resisted--and conquered!"
"I believe I have conquered."
"The blessed Saint Francis be praised! It is well done. If you like, we
will offer a mass for you."
"I am not a Catholic," said Rowland.
The frate smiled with dignity. "That is a reason the more."
"But it 's for you, then, to choose. Shake hands with me," Rowland
added; "that will do as well; and suffer me, as I go out, to stop a
moment in your chapel."
They shook hands and separated.
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