solution; then we go back and discover in it another world of profound interest. That is the true sign of a masterpiece.
In English we have only John Inglesant and Robert Elsmere to compare it with; but The Saint surpasses them both, not merely by the greater significance of its central theme, but by its subtle psychology, its wider horizon, its more various contacts with life. Benedetto, the Saint, is a new character in fiction, a mingling of St. Francis and Dr. Dollinger, a man of to-day in intelligence, a medieval in faith. Nothing could be finer than the way in which Signor Fogazzaro depicts his zeal, his ecstasies, his visions, his depressions, his doubts; shows the physical and mental reactions; gives us, in a word, a study in religious psychology without rival in fiction. We follow Benedetto's spiritual fortunes with as much eagerness as if they were a love story.
And then there is the love story. Where shall one turn to find another like it? Jeanne seldom appears in the foreground, but we feel from the first to last the magnetism of her presence. There is always the possibility that at sight or thought of her, Benedetto may be swept back from his ascetic vows, to the life of passion. Their first meeting in the monastery chapel is a masterpiece of dramatic climax, and Benedetto's temptation in her carriage, after the feverish interview with the cabinet Minister, is a marvel of psychological subtlety. Both scenes illustrate Signor Fogazzaro's power to achieve the highest artistic results without exaggeration.
No one can gainsay the remarkable artistic effects which Signor Fogazzaro attains through his Saint's varied experiences. He causes to pass before you all
