Our two friends had remained behind the rest of the congregation, and on
rising from their knees and finding themselves alone in the church, each
advanced towards the other in a spirit of Christian forgiveness, and
shook his friend warmly by the hand, the subject of the three pauls
being dropped on this occasion. "By the way, Peppe," said Antonio, after a short interchange of genial
conversation, "did you ever set eyes on that confessor before, think
you?" "Well, now you mention it, friend Antonio, his features _do_ seem
familiar to me, yet I can't call to mind where I have seen him,"
answered Peppe. "Ah!" suddenly ejaculated Antonio, "I have it. If that monk is not the
head brigand whom you so miraculously scared away by rising from the
dead, may I be--shot." "_Per Baccounaccio!_ friend Antonio, you're right," exclaimed his
friend; "it _is_ the very same. I thought I knew him all the while. Well
this is strange; and we have been confessing to a brigand chief!" "True," said Antonio; "but of course you have heard that in consequence
of the supposed miracle, he and the rest of his band became converted
and took holy vows, having received a full pardon from the Pope for
their past misdeeds. He now performs mass, and therefore his absolution
is worth just as much as that of any other ecclesiastic." "Yes, yes; I've no doubt," replied Peppe; "but, I say, Anthony, if you
had but noticed how uncommonly interested he became in the middle of my
confession! That was because I confessed to him the trick I played upon
you, old friend, that night. You remember, eh? Ha! ha! Well, as soon as
I began to talk about jumping up from the dead, and how the brigands
scampered away helter-skelter, leaving their treasure behind them in
their flight, I noticed him change colour, and he grew impatient to know
more. I thought it strange that he should appear to take such interest
in the matter. Now I can account for his look of remorse that puzzled me
so before. He is angry with himself at being frightened into turning
monk by a sham miracle." "I, too, noticed the very same thing, friend Peppe," said Antonio, "when
I likewise confessed the same story. I'll lay my life that he now
repents him of having turned monk. Perhaps he suspected that we
recognised him, and that was the reason he hastened away so after
confession. I wonder where he is now?" The mysterious monk had disappeared; so had the two silver candlesticks
on the altar. Extraordinary coincidence! Had they also vanished by a
miracle? They were on the altar when our two friends went to confess, as both of
them declared. Perhaps the new sacristan had taken them away to clean
after the departure of the congregation. No; the sacristan was questioned, he knew naught but that they were
still on the altar. The affair caused much gossip and surmise, and much
time was lost in loud talking and angry gesticulations. The arch-priest
at length appeared on the spot, and our two friends Antonio and Peppe
communicated to him their suspicions--viz., that the unknown friar, whom
both of them recognised to be no other than the brigand chief himself,
had purloined the silver candlesticks immediately after confession, and
made his escape into the mountains. Search was now made for the thief,
but the day was already far spent and the monk had had ample time to
reach the convent before his pursuers thought of going in search of him. On the following day the arch-priest called at the convent in person,
acquainted the monks there with his loss, and stated his suspicions. He
was informed by them that the band of brigands who had only lately
become converted and had entered their order, and who, up to the present
time, had shown themselves most exemplary in conduct, to the great
surprise of their brother monks, had suddenly decamped in the dead of
night, no one knew how. They had evidently resumed their former
profession, as they had left their cassocks behind them, and their arms,
which had been hung up in the chapel as trophies of their conversion,
had been removed. The affair of the silver candlesticks was unknown to the rest of the
order, but shortly afterwards a silversmith in Rome, to whose shop a
handsome pair of silver candlesticks was brought for sale, having some
scruples at receiving stolen goods, and distrusting much the appearance
of the person who brought them, sent secretly to the police, who took in
charge the suspected party. Now it happened about that time in the
vicinity of Rome, that a certain band of brigands had been guilty of the
most fearful outrages. The police were already on their track, and the
capture of the suspected vendor of stolen goods subsequently led to the
discovery of the whole band, which was soon identified as the same
which had once received the Pope's pardon and had entered into holy
orders. They were accordingly tried, condemned, and executed on the
summit of the fort of St. Angelo, which is built on the ruins of the
ancient tomb of Hadrian, on the banks of the Tiber. *       *       *       *       *

By the time our artist had finished his story, and received Helen's warm
eulogium on the same, the sitting had already come to an end. Dame
Hearty now knocked at the door to ask if her daughter could be spared,
as she found that she really could not go through her household duties
without her. "Just one moment," said McGuilp; "there, Helen, just place yourself once
more as you were, and I shall have finished with you for the day. Just
one more touch." The artist then began working rapidly for some ten minutes, as if his
life were at stake, when suddenly throwing himself back in his chair, as
if exhausted after some stupendous effort, he exclaimed: "There now!" These magical words were the signal for Helen's liberation, and now both
mother and daughter placed themselves behind the artist's chair and
proceeded to criticise his work. "Oh my! what a love of a pictur'!" exclaimed Dame Hearty; "and how
exactly like our Helen. Oh, if ever! Well I never! I do declare," etc. "And how you have improved it this sitting! Why, last time I thought
there was no more to do to it, but now it is life itself." "You flatter me, Helen," said McGuilp; "for I assure you that the
portrait is still in a most crude and unfinished state." "How say you?--still unfinished?" cried Helen. "Well, if you go on at
that rate, by next sitting I shall expect to hear it speak." "Come, Helen," said her mother, "we must be off, for we have no time to
lose. Another time, when we have less to do, I shall be most happy to
let you assist the gentleman to finish his pictur'," and curtseying to
McGuilp, she led her daughter out of the room, while the painter was
left to the uninspired operations of cleaning his palette and brushes,
and putting his studio in order previous to joining the other members of
the club. FOOTNOTES:

[7] A paul is half a franc.