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60 "As you always do," I rejoined, gravely; "you obey him implicitly, like a humble servant."

The monk bowed and quickened his horse's pace.

"It has pleased God," replied he, "to deprive his servant of his robes for the purpose of saving the soul of a Christian who is about to quit this world."

"St. Martin gave to the poor only a half of his cloak. What was his charity in comparison with yours?"

The Franciscan shrugged his shoulders.

"Alas!" he muttered, "it is a rich man who has my gown, and I don't deserve to be compared to St. Martin."

"I am well aware that the most noble virtues are often modestly hidden from the world."

Wearied with my bantering, the monk dropped the mask entirely.

"Faith!" he replied, in a frank, open tone, "pietistic people prefer being interred in a monkish habit; and, the more threadbare the garment, the higher they value it. My gown, on this account, is of an inestimable value. I sold it a short time ago for double its original cost; and, besides the profit from the sale of it, I got a present of this costume which I am now wearing."

The sun had now set; and the moon, which was rising, diffused its beams over the solitary country. Arrived at the crest of a small eminence, I looked back upon the canals and the plains of the Viga, which, under the brilliant night of the tropics, appeared to me under quite a new aspect. The moon had lighted up the lagoons, the canal, and the road. They were all now silent. The most profound stillness had taken the place of the stir and hum of the busy crowd; the silence was broken only by the distant bellowing of