As they again turned a curve of the grade Corona, who was on the inside, looked up and caught sight of Gouache's motionless figure at the opposite extremity of the gradient they had just descended.

Giovanni looked straight before him, and was aware of a pale-faced Capuchin friar who with downcast eyes was toiling up the road, seemingly exhausted; a particularly weather-stained and dilapidated friar even for those wild mountains.
"Gouache is studying geography," remarked Corona.
"Another of those Capuccini!" exclaimed Giovanni, instinctively feeling in his pocket for coppers.

Then with a sudden movement he seized his wife's arm.

She was close to him as they rode slowly along side by side.
"Good God! Corona," he cried, "it is Del Ferice!" Corona looked quickly at the monk.

His cowl was raised enough to show his features; but she would, perhaps, not have recognised his smooth shaven face had Giovanni not called her attention to it.
Del Ferice had recognised them too, and, horror-struck, he paused, trembling and uncertain what to do.