Montanelli rose at last, made the sign of the
cross, and turned away from the altar. The Gadfly
shrank further back into the shadow, trembling
with fear lest he should be seen, lest the very
beating of his heart should betray him; then he
drew a long breath of relief. Montanelli had
passed him, so close that the violet robe had
brushed against his cheek,--had passed and had
not seen him.
Had not seen him---- Oh, what had he done?
This had been his last chance--this one precious
moment--and he had let it slip away. He started
up and stepped into the light.
"Padre!"
The sound of his own voice, ringing up and
dying away along the arches of the roof, filled him
with fantastic terror. He shrank back again into
the shadow. Montanelli stood beside the pillar,
motionless, listening with wide-open eyes, full
of the horror of death. How long the silence
lasted the Gadfly could not tell; it might have
been an instant, or an eternity. He came to his
senses with a sudden shock. Montanelli was beginning
to sway as though he would fall, and his
lips moved, at first silently.
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