n or Sicilian. Their
passport, dated Rome, called him Balsamo, while she bore the names of
Serafina Feliciani, which she still retains. Ten years later we shall
hear more of this couple under the name of Cagliostro.

"We are going back to Rome," said she, "well pleased with our devotions
to St. James of Compostella and to Our Lady del Pilar. We have walked the
whole way on foot, living on alms, so as to more surely win the mercy of
the God whom I have offended so grievously. We have had silver, and even
gold money given us, and in every town we came to we gave what remained
to the poor, so as not to offend God by lack of faith.

"My husband is strong, and has not suffered much, but I have found so
much walking very fatiguing. We have slept on straw or bad beds, always
with our clothes on, to avoid contracting diseases it would be hard to
rid one's self of."

It seemed to me that this last circumstance was added to make us wish to
find out whether the rest of her body could compare with her hands and
arms in whiteness.

"Do you think of making any stay?"

"My weariness will oblige us to stay here for three days; then we shall
go to Rome by the way of Turin, where we shall pay our devotion to the
Holy Sudary."

"You know, of course, that there are several of them in Europe."

"So we have heard, but we are assured that the Sudary of Turin is the
true one. It is the kerchief with which St. Veronica wiped the face of
Our Lord, who left the imprint of His divine face upon it."

We left them, well pleased with the appearance and manners of the lady
pilgrim, but placing very little trust in her devotion. I was still weak
from my illness, and she inspired me with no desires, but the rest would
have gladly supped with her if they had thought there was anything to
follow.

Next day her husband asked me if I would come up and breakfast with them,
or if they should come down and breakfast with me. It would have been
impolite to have replied neither, so I said that I should be delighted to
see them in my room.

At breakfast I asked the pilgrim what he did, and he replied that he was
an artist.

He could not design a picture, but he could copy it, and he assured me
that he could copy an engraving so exactly that none could tell the copy
from the original.

"I congratulate you. If you are not a rich man, you are, at least,
certain of earning a living with this talent."

"Everybody says the same, but it is a mistake. I