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 fellow, until I saw him greet my lady, and the look he poured on her was as kind as water on a parched flower.

"What is the news?" my lady asked. "Are we to walk before Mazzaleone like sheep? Is it true?"

"So it is commanded by Mazzaleone," said he, and his voice sounded like a deep bell. And I saw that this thing of so great importance to us, and so great a hurt to our pride, was less than nothing to this strange man.

"Who are you?" my lady asked him.

"The least of all things: the youngest of the Brothers Minor," he answered.

We had heard of these lay preachers from Assisi, for their fame had spread greatly in those days.

"Do you preach in San Moglio?"

"I am not worthy. I cannot speak. But as I go to and fro I talk to children about my Master," said he, humbly. "I wait with hope and dread when my hour to speak shall come and the coal of speech shall be laid on my lips."

My lady considered his words and asked him questions concerning Brother Francis,