Now, it was out of the question.

Pale, exhausted, and leaning on Noemi's arm, she, with difficulty, dragged herself as far as the door, where a beggar stood, waiting for his bowl of soup.

Fortunately Fra Antonio opened the door before Noemi had time to ring, and she entreated him to bring a chair and a glass of water for her friend, who was feeling unwell.

Frightened at the sight of Jeanne, so deathly pale, and drooping against her companion's shoulder, the humble old lay-brother placed the bowl of soup he had brought for the beggar in Noemi's hands, and hastened away in search of the chair and the water.

Thanks partly to the droll spectacle the astonished Noemi presented, as she stood holding the bowl of soup, partly to the rest--the water, the sight of the ancient cloister sleeping so peacefully, and the reassertion of her own will--a few minutes sufficed to restore Jeanne sufficiently.