worthy signor: when I had the honour to be in his company he was all politeness."
"And," said Agnes, "he sent me word by his illustrious lordship, that if ever I should need assistance, I had only to apply to him."
"What a wonderful conversion!" resumed Don Abbondio. "And he perseveres? does he not persevere?"
The tailor spoke at length of the holy life of the Unknown, and said, that after having been the scourge of the country, he had become its best example and benefactor.
"And the people of his household—that band?" asked Don Abbondio, who had heard some contradictory stories concerning them, and did not feel, therefore, quite secure.
"The greater part have left him," replied the tailor, "and those who have remained have changed their manner of life; in short, this castle has become like the Thebaid. The signor curate understands me."
Then retracing with Agnes the visit of the cardinal, "What a great man!" said he, "a great man, indeed! what a pity he remained so short a time with us! I wished to do him honour. Oh, if I had only been able to address him again, more at my leisure!"
When they rose from table, he showed them an engraving of the cardinal, which he had hung on the door, from veneration to his virtues, and also to enable him to assure every body that it was no likeness; he knew it was not, as he had regarded him closely at his leisure in this very room.
"Did they mean that for him?" said Agnes. "The habit is the same, but"
"It is no likeness, is it?" said the tailor; "that is what I always say, but other things being wanting, there is at least his name under it, which tells who it is."
Don Abbondio being impatient to be gone, the tailor went in search of a vehicle to carry the little company to the foot of the ascent, and returned in a few moments to inform them it was ready. "Signor curate," said he, "if you wish a few books to carry with you, I can lend you
