So reasonable did this seem, that about two
years ago it was resolved to call in a somnambulist or clairvoyant
from Turin, who, when he arrived at the spot, became seized with
convulsions, betokening of course that there was treasure not far
off: these convulsions increased till he reached the choir of the
chapel, and here he swooned--falling down as if dead, and being
resuscitated with apparent difficulty. He afterwards declared that
it was in this chapel that the treasure was hidden. In spite of
all this, however, the chapel has not been turned upside down and
ransacked, perhaps from fear of offending the saint to whom it is
dedicated.
In the chapel there are a few votive pictures, but not very
striking ones. I hurriedly sketched one, but have failed to do it
justice. The hind saw me copying the little girl in bed, and I had
an impression as though he did not quite understand my motive. I
told him I had a dear little girl of my own at home, who had been
alarmingly ill in the spring, and that this picture reminded me of
her. This made everything quite comfortable.
We had brought up our dinner from S. Ambrogio, and ate it in what
had been the refectory of the monastery. The windows were broken,
and the swallows, who had built upon the ceiling inside the room,
kept flying close to us all the time we were eating. Great mallows
and hollyhocks peered in at the window, and beyond them there was a
pretty Devonshire-looking orchard.
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