A Flutter of Doves T T AST spring, when I was

staying in one of the hill cities of Tuscany, I happened to hear that there were sonic remains of ancient fresco paintings in an outhouse belonging to the convent on the top, of the hill. I said I should like to see them, but I was told that it was impossible_ as it was a convent of contemplatives of a strictly enclosed order.

I thought it was worth an effort, however, and as the saintly old priest who acted as confessor to the nuns was a friend of mine, I applied to him for help. He shook his head at first, but when I urged that it was only an outhouse, and that I had no thought of intruding upon the nuns themselves, he said that he would speak to the Reverend Mother when he went up the next day to. hear . confessions and , would let me. know what she said. The next .evening he came, all smiles and congratulations, to tell me it had been arranged. .

" There's a group of ancient outbuildings," he said, " connected with the .convent by a door of which the Reverend Mother has the key ; but it hasn't been opened for twenty years and I fancy that by now the.key would not be of much use. The Reverend .Mother says. they occasionally, store things there, but not in the frescoed cell itself; and when anything is wanted they send someone.. round to another door which opens right on the hillside. If we go up to-morrow morning the old. man who serves the convent will .open the door for us." .

The next day we climbed the hill together and fOund the old. man waiting with the key in his hand. The cell proved most interesting. „The walls had been entirely covered with painting, much of it now obliterated, but .enough was left to keep me busy. for. hours.. It. seemed to have been the oratory of some ancient. painter- monk, for at one eud.therc was ,a tumbled heap of bricks where the.altat would have stood, and above it the remains of a Crucifixion. On one side wall the figures seemed to form a procession, perhaps an Ascent to Calvary, and on the other. I. could_ trace clearly a Descent from the Cross. It was all very primitive but wonder- fully full of expression. Strange, what long-hidden emotions looked out on me from the rough stone as I moved my little light over the surface. Here, in one corner, the twisted agony of the impenitent thief. There, opposite, a bit of a downbent woman's face, the curve of the cheek and the gentle, pitying eyes. All round, running up even into the roof, were scrolls with lettering in contracted Latin just visible enough to make it impossible to leave them unstudied. It is a trail I have always found fascinating.

The boy who went in with me was not in the least fascinated. He was interested in my torch and in that only, and when he was satiated with gazing at it he melted away and left me alone. When he went I have no idea. I was conscious of nothing but my frescoes till, to my annoyance, I found my torch beginning to give out. When I could see no more I made my way, very reluctantly, by help of the spark that remained, through the outer cells to the door.

It was locked.

I learned afterwards that the old man, passing that way at dusk and seeing the door still open with the key in the lock, took for granted that the boy had forgotten all about it (as no doubt he had) and himself locked the door.

So there I was, strictly enclosed, sure enough, but not at all disposed to accept my clausura with submission. How to get out ? The obvious course was to find my way if possible through the various cells to a door that led into the convent and knock there until someone heard me. So I groped my way back, felt for the bricks of a ruined altar I had passed on my way to the cell, piled some of them up at the foot of the partition wall dividing me from the nunnery, and found that by standing on this rather shaky pedestal I could grasp the t'op with my hands and draw myself up. On the other side there was darkness, made visible by what seemed to be a glimmer through a crack near the top of the wall opposite. I dropped a piece or two of rubble to make sure that there was not a well below me, and as they fell on something soft, I let myself down and dropped. Pluff ! Something soft indeed ! I fell right into it, hands, knees, and face. I sat there in the dark rubbing my eyes and blowing the stuff out of my mouth. Afterwards I found that it was soot !

Next I investigated the gleam and found that it came from a crack in a rather rickety wooden shutter near the top of the wall. I could just reach the edge with my fingers and I managed to draw mygelf up and rest on my elbows. The shutters were very insecurely fastened, and when I opened a chink to get a peep at what was beyond, I don't know whether I was 'more interested or embarrassed to find myself looking into the refectory of the convent with all the nuns at supper.

I don't deny a minute or so of curious watching. They were having a minestra which smut very good. and I saw dishes of eggs and vegetables being brought in They ate in perfect silence, and high up in a tiny pulpit directly opposite me a nun was reading aloud, M a sweet, plaintive voice, descriptions of horrible torments ; a passage, no doubt, in the life of some martyred saint.

They were, of course, quite unconscious of me, and I was uncertain whether it would be best to speak at once or to retire again to my depths and call. out from there without letting them know that I had played Actaeon: In such unknown territory What vengeance Might there not be to fear ? Suddenly there was a shriek ofterror from_the nun whp was reading. _ She had seen me, . The shutters had-.been falling open of themselves, and now my soot-begrimed face was fully visible peering from the aperture, rendered the more terrifying, no doubt, .by the, red spark. of the dying torch which I still held in. my hand. She dropped her book, which fell with a clatter and splutter into some dishes on the table below. The nuns rose, trembling,.and4 seeing the horrible visage emerging from below. the floor, added their shrieks to their sister's, and hurried towards the door, while the Reverend Mother raised ..an authoritative hand, saying " Calma, calma, figliole ! ". and bade them leave the room quietly.

Meanwhile I did my best to scramble in, partly because I was tired of hanging on my elbows, and partly because I wished these frightened doves to see that I was, after all, a human being and not merely a diabolic head. But my efforts only made things worse, for when they saw more and more of my person struggling into .view there was a general sauve qui peat in which the Reverend Mother herself joined. By the time I was in the room and on my feet. they were gone and the door locked behind them. I heard the Mother telling them to go at once into the chapel and say the rosary. A minute later I heard the other door being locked, the one by which the dishes were brought in and which no doubt led from the kitchen. Then silence.

I called out once or twice and waited,' hoping for sonic opportunity of explaining' things, but there was no reply, and after a while the humbrons aspect .61' the situation struck me and I laughed. It must. have heen a. devilish cachinnation, for then I heard a faint, " 0 Santa Madonna ! " and the flutter of flying - skirts. I saw, too, that the keyhole was now clear ; evidently an eye had been withdrawn.

The laugh had changed my mood. I no longer felt apologetic, but rather a little. annoyed—and more .than a little hungry.

" Well, if they are going to keep me locked up .all night, I may as well have some supper before it -.gets cold," I said to myself, and finding extra plates on a side table, I helped myself liberally to what there was, and sat down to eat.

Certainly I was in a filthy condition and my clothes and hands blackened everything I touched. Whea I saw the colour of the napkin with which I had wiped my lips I no longer felt impatient with the .nun. If my face was like that—! A fuliginous and truly infernal visage !

However, the eggs were good, and I was in the act of helping myself to a third when I heard above my head a hearty, masculine laugh, and there was my kind old friend looking down upon me from the reader's pulpit with the Reverend Mother's timid eyes visible behind him.

" Buon' appeato, signore."

I started up and began explanations.

" Wait till I come down," he said. " But mean- while— " He turned to the Reverend Mother and introduced me formally as his friend to whom. she had given permission to study the frescoes in the old. cells.

I hope my bow. was not devilish, for hers was angelic. She did not speak and they both disappeared imMe7 diately. In two minutes the door was unlocked and the old priest came in alone,- still laughing. " Eccomi," he said, "ready to release. you... :tfUless you want to finish supper."

He led me through .ViiriOnS corridors, . past rOyis ":4f. closed doors, but not a living creature did we meet except a cat which looked at me with disapproval: Only when we reached the Vestibule I saw dowh a' side passage the- ReVerend Mother herself. 'Her attitude was dignified; but hei•- eyes *ere round *Rh doubt -and '"" I' Should like to speak to lier," I -said, and stopped. " I must explain." But she had Vanished: " Dornani—to-morrow," said my friend, with a slightly urgent touch upon my arm, " to-night she is afraid. She is there to see that you go truly out."

I shrugged and went truly out.

' The next day, 'after the most Complete lustrations and pluifieations that repeated refillings of my rubber bath could afford me, and arrayed in fris, " bests ' both as to clothes and manners, I called to make my explana-: tions and apologies, which were received through a formidable double grille by a sweet-voiced lady heavily veiled in black. She was very 'courteous and gentle, but she did not invite me to continue my study of the freScoes. As she closed the shutter of the grille I saw her make the sign of the Cross. ANTONY.