THE FOOL ERRANT - World eBook Library - World Public Library

undoubtedly true that many agreeable qualities were to be found. He was, to use my illustration again, an admirable cook; he
was a good talker, a companionable man, a kindly host. Having got my measure, as it were, and won of me by persuasion,
what he had failed to win by force, he was sensible enough to see that, if he wished to keep me, he must curb his vile passion of
rage. And so, for a while, he did.
Trudging our road to Prato early in the morning, he was very gay. Virginia stepped along by my side, a free-moving young
creature who never seemed to tire; but he struck out in front of us, most of the time singing at the top of his voice very
discreditable songs, or with a joke, salutation, sarcasm or criticism for everybody we passed on the way. Wearying of this,
because, as he said, it was poor work fencing with bunglers, he kept us closer company for the rest of the journey, and was
most entertaining. He talked, he joked, he told tales, he told lies. He was shrewd, caustic, tender, witty, extravagant,
uproarious, turn and turn about, but he never lost sight of his aim. Probably there never was a man of looser conversation who
kept a tighter hold upon the direction of his discourse. The end of all his oratory came when he made us, his pupils as he called
us, acquainted with his plans.
"This festa," he said, "whither we go, will bring all the world to Prato, if it have not done so already; and as this same world is
the orange which I and you, my apprentices, propose to suck, let us lose no time in getting our teeth well into the rind. In this
way, namely: there are three days' junketing before us, to which we will minister exactly what the revellers need. Tomorrow,
when they translate the blessed remains of Santa Caterina de' Ricci, we shall sell objects of devotion to the faithful." As we
were now sitting by the roadside for our midday meal, he produced a variety of objects from a bag at his feet.
"Observe," he continued, "these images—lilies, bambini, nourishing matrons, curly-headed deacons; these flaming hearts, these
hearts stuck upon swords: a holy traffic indeed! Here, too," and he extricated a budget tied in blue tape-ribbon, "are the lives of
all the frati worthy of record, and of a good few, between you and me and this damsel, not to be found recorded. Here, in this
napkin, is everything requisite to make Santa Caterina de' Ricci the happiest of dead ladies—as, portraits of her mother, of her
mother's sisters, of her father and all his relatives, of the young man who drowned himself at Pontassieve for her love, and of
that other young man who, on the contrary, did not, but made himself a priest and became her spiritual director. Here are the
palace in which she was born, the escutcheon of the De' Ricci which she despised, her governess's house, the convent where
she made her vows, and the cell where, if she did not die, she might very easily have died. Here you have the great doctors and
captains of the Dominican Order, here is Albert the Great, here seraphic Thomas, here murdered Peter, here Catherine, here
Rose—admirable engravings, as you see, mostly after the admired John. Here then is our day's work cut out for us—a happy
toil! On the next, having done our humble service to the souls of all these persons, we must be careful not to forget their bodily
needs. I shall exercise my skill in dentistry for trifling rewards, and you, my young Aesculapius, will prove to others, as you have
already proved to me, that the strong wrist and willing arm are not lacking among your personal endowments. I am persuaded
that these duties will occupy the whole of the second day, for Prato will be full to suffocation by that time, and there will hardly
be a head whose recesses we may not have to explore. By these means, having secured (as I hope) the public confidence, the
time will be ripe for my great design. After worship, relaxation, the release from pain; after pain, pleasure comes. On that third
day, my children, we will set up a faro-bank, the profits of which, if skill be employed, will more than counterbalance what we
have cheerfully lost in our efforts to do good. The reward, I say, is certain, and who shall call it undeserved? Not I, for one.
Now, children, to the road once more! Happy fortunes attend us! Pray for old Palamone, who loves you dearly and thinks
about you night and day."
He got up as he was finishing this speech of his and took to the road before I could object—as I did object—to some of his
propositions. But I told Virginia that I intended to leave him at Prato and push on to Florence, as I had no intention of helping
him cheat his neighbours. "What!" I cried, "a Strelley of Upcote, a gentleman and an old Catholic, to clown it in a fair! Never in
the world!"
Virginia, walking staidly beside me, considered this outburst in silence before she delivered herself. '"You speak," she then said,
"as I would have you speak, but not at all as you have decided to speak. You cannot at one and the same moment be
Francesco of Upcote and Francesco Ignoto; you cannot exalt yourself and degrade yourself. If you choose to be a gentleman,
why did you discard your coat?"
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