a good bed
as I had that night. It would have cured the most chronic insomnia, but I
was not labouring under such a disease, and I slept for ten hours.

This sort of treatment easily led me to believe that I was not in any
kind of hostelry; but where was I? How was I to suppose that I was in a
hospital?

When I had taken my chocolate, a hair-dresser--quite a fashionable,
dapper fellow--made his appearance, dying to give vent to his chattering
propensities. Guessing that I did not wish to be shaved, he offered to
clip my soft down with the scissors, saying that I would look younger.

"Why do you suppose that I want to conceal my age?"

"It is very natural, because, if your lordship did not wish to do so,
your lordship would have shaved long ago. Countess Marcolini is here;
does your lordship know her? I must go to her at noon to dress her hair."

I did not feel interested in the Countess Marcolini, and, seeing it, the
gossip changed the subject.

"Is this your lordship's first visit to this house? It is the finest
hospital throughout the papal states."

"I quite agree with you, and I shall compliment His Holiness on the
establishment."

"Oh! His Holiness knows all about it, he resided here before he became
pope. If Monsignor Caraffa had not been well acquainted with you, he
would not have introduced you here."

Such is the use of barbers throughout Europe; but you must not put any
questions to them, for, if you do, they are sure to threat you to an
impudent mixture of truth and falsehood, and instead of you pumping them,
they will worm everything out of you.

Thinking that it was my duty to present my respectful compliments to
Monsignor Caraffa, I desired to be taken to his apartment. He gave me a
pleasant welcome, shewed me his library, and entrusted me to the care of
one of his abbes, a man of parts, who acted as my cicerone every where.
Twenty years afterwards, this same abbe was of great service to me in
Rome, and, if still alive, he is a canon of St. John Lateran.

On the following day, I took the communion in the Santa-Casa. The third
day was entirely employed in examining the exterior of this truly
wonderful sanctuary, and early the next day I resumed my journey, having
spent nothing except three paoli for the barber. Halfway to Macerata, I
overtook Brother Stephano walking on at a very slow rate. He was
delighted to see me again, and told me that he had left Ancona two hours
after me, but that he ne