good company I had met, and only sorry I
had not seen the marquis's brother who was praised by everyone.

CHAPTER XX

A Jew Named Mardocheus Becomes My Travelling Companion--
He Persuades Me to Lodge in His House--I Fall in Love With His
Daughter Leah--After a Stay of Six Weeks I Go to Trieste

Some time elapsed before I had time to examine the Marquis of Mosca's
collection of Latin poets, amongst which the 'Priapeia' found no place.

No doubt this work bore witness to his love for literature but not to his
learning, for there was nothing of his own in it. All he had done was to
classify each fragment in chronological order. I should have liked to see
notes, comments, explanations, and such like; but there was nothing of
the kind. Besides, the type was not elegant, the margins were poor, the
paper common, and misprints not infrequent. All these are bad faults,
especially in a work which should have become a classic. Consequently,
the book was not a profitable one; and as the marquis was not a rich man
he was occasionally reproached by his wife for the money he had expended.

I read his treatise on almsgiving and his apology for it, and understood
a good deal of the marquis's way of thinking. I could easily imagine that
his writings must have given great offence at Rome, and that with sounder
judgment he would have avoided this danger. Of course the marquis was
really in the right, but in theology one is only in the right when Rome
says yes.

The marquis was a rigorist, and though he had a tincture of Jansenism he
often differed from St. Augustine.

He denied, for instance, that almsgiving could annul the penalty attached
to sin, and according to him the only sort of almsgiving which had any
merit was that prescribed in the Gospel: "Let not thy right hand know
what thy left hand doeth."

He even maintained that he who gave alms sinned unless it was done with
the greatest secrecy, for alms given in public are sure to be accompanied
by vanity.

It might have been objected that the merit of alms lies in the intention
with which they are given. It is quite possible for a good man to slip a
piece of money into the palm of some miserable being standing in a public
place, and yet this may be done solely with the idea of relieving
distress without a thought of the onlookers.

As I wanted to go to Trieste, I might have crossed the gulf by a small
boat from Pesaro; a good wind was blowing, and I sho