ric cardinal returned me my Pandects, and I
immediately returned his funeral oration, with a letter in which I
pronounced it a masterpiece of composition, though I laid barely glanced
over it in reality. My brother told me I was wrong, but I did not trouble
what he said, not caring to guide myself by his rulings.

In the evening my brother and I went to the 'scopatore santissimo', who
was expecting me, and had announced me to his family as a prodigy of a
man. I introduced my brother, and proceeded to a close scrutiny of the
family. I saw an elderly woman, four girls, of whom the eldest was
twenty-four, two small boys, and above all universal ugliness. It was not
inviting for a man of voluptuous tastes, but I was there, and the best
thing was to put a good face on it; so I stayed and enjoyed myself.
Besides the general ugliness, the household presented the picture of
misery, for the 'scopatore santissimo' and his numerous family were
obliged to live on two hundred Roman crowns a year, and as there are no
perquisites attached to the office of apostolic sweeper, he was compelled
to furnish all needs out of this slender sum. In spite of that Momolo was
a most generous man. As soon as he saw me seated he told me he should
have liked to give me a good supper, but there was only pork chops and a
polenta.

"They are very nice," said I; "but will you allow me to send for half a
dozen flasks of Orvieto from my lodging?"

"You are master here."

I wrote a note to Costa, telling him to bring the six flasks directly,
with a cooked ham. He came in half an hour, and the four girls cried when
they saw him, "What a fine fellow!" I saw Costa was delighted with this
reception, and said to Momolo,

"If you like him as well as your girls I will let him stay."

Costa was charmed with such honour being shewn him, and after thanking me
went into the kitchen to help the mother with the polenta.

The large table was covered with a clean cloth, and soon after they
brought in two huge dishes of polenta and an enormous pan full of chops.
We were just going to begin when a knocking on the street door was heard.

"'Tis Signora Maria and her mother," said one of the boys.

At this announcement I saw the four girls pulling a wry face. "Who asked
them?" said one. "What do they want?" said another. "What troublesome
people they are!" said a third. "They might have stayed at home," said
the fourth. But the good, kindly father said, "My children,