Matteo; "and how dear to her old father your honour hath no notion."
"I can very well imagine it," returned Messer Alessandro; "and, indeed, I remember that you are twenty ducats in hand."
"Oh, va bene, va bene!" cried Matteo. "I am your Excellency's humble servant. You shall take her when you like and as you like."
"All will be done scrupulously," Alessandro said with fervour. "We shall crown her Queen of our College of the Muses; she shall be priestess, sacred image, and oracle; and most honourably served."
"Honour of course," said Matteo, "comes into the game. I have played it myself, and know what I am talking about. There was Beppina, that fat Venetian hussy—to see her eat! But she always had her whack. Eh, I have been a blade in my day!"
To this testimony the Sub-Prefect had no comments ready. He returned to the object of his thought.
"We shall in turn contemplate her excellence," he explained, "and derive inspirations in turn. A fine body of devotional rhyme should be the result of this."
"The result," Matteo broke in, "will be a fine one, I warrant your Excellency, if such things as that are in your mind—and call it what you will, she's as healthy as ever her mother was. And she had seventeen of 'em, one way with another, before I buried her."
"She shall be crowned with stars, rest upon beds of roses, walk in flowery meadows, hide from the
