u would
get me a hired carriage, and a guide for whom you can answer."

"It shall be done."

The count was going out when the priest, who had supped with us the night
before, came in to make his bow. He was a man of forty-one of the tribe
of domestic chaplains who are so common in Italy--who, in return for
keeping the accounts of the house, live with its master and mistress. In
the morning this priest said mass in a neighbouring church, for the rest
of the day he either occupied himself with the cares of the house, or was
the lady's obedient servant.

As soon as We were alone he begged me to say that he had paid me the
three hundred Milanese crowns for the sarcenet, if the countess asked me
about it.

"Dear, dear, abbe!" said I, laughing, "this sort of thing is not exactly
proper in a man of your sacred profession. How can you advise me to tell
a lie? No, sir; if the countess asks me any such impertinent question, I
shall tell her the truth."

"I am sure she will ask you, and if you answer like that I shall suffer
for it."

"Well, sir, if you are in the wrong you deserve to suffer."

"But as it happens, I should be blamed for nothing."

"Well, go and tell her it's a present; and if she won't have that, tell
her I am in no hurry to be paid."

"I see, sir, that you don't know the lady or the way in which this house
is managed. I will speak to her husband."

In a quarter of an hour the count told me that he owed me a lot of money,
which he hoped to pay back in the course of Lent, and that I must add the
sarcenet to the account. I embraced him and said that he would have to
keep the account himself, as I never noted down any of the moneys that I
was only too happy to lend to my friends.

"If your wife asks me whether I have received the money, be sure I will
answer in the affirmative."

He went out shedding grateful tears, while I felt indebted to him for
having given me the opportunity of doing him a service; for I was very
fond of him.

In the morning, the countess being invisible, I watched my man spreading
out my suits over the chairs, amongst them being some handsome women's
cloaks, and a rich red dress deeply trimmed with fur, which had been
originally intended for the luckless Corticelli. I should no doubt have
given it to Agatha, if I had continued to live with her, and I should
have made a mistake, as such a dress was only fit for a lady of rank.

At one o'clock I received another visit from the c