Then I said to myself: 'By St.Catherine, this man is a saint!' And a saint he certainly is!" While he was speaking a poor cripple passed, a beggar from Subiaco.
Seeing a lady, he stopped and held out his hat.

Jeanne, completely absorbed in what the herder was saying, did not notice him, nor did she hear him when--the herder having ceased speaking--he begged for alms, for the love of God.

She asked the gardener where this Benedetto was to be found.

The man scratched his head, doubtful how to answer.

Then the beggar groaned out in a mournful voice: "You are seeking Benedetto?
He is at the Sacro Speco." Jeanne turned eagerly towards him.
"At the Sacro Speco ?" said she; and the gardener asked the beggar if he himself had seen him there.
The cripple, more tearful than ever, told how more than an hour ago he had been on the road to the Sacro Speco, beyond the grove of evergreen oaks, only a few steps from the convent.