as if they had just flown
out of a coppice instead of off the spit: also chickens cooked in
bottles, and tender as peaches. But the grand novelty was the napkins,
surpassingly fine, and folded into cocked hats, and birds' wings, and
fans, etc., instead of lying flat. This electrified Gerard; though my
readers have seen the dazzling phenomenon without tumbling backwards
chair and all.

After dinner the tables were split in pieces, and carried away, and lo,
under each was another table spread with sweetmeats. The signoras and
signorinas fell upon them and gormandized; but the signors eyed them
with reasonable suspicion.

"But, dear father," objected Gerard, "I see not the bifurcal daggers,
with which men say his excellency armeth the left hand of a man."

"Nay, 'tis the Cardinal Orsini which hath invented yon peevish
instrument for his guests to fumble their meat withal. One, being in
haste, did skewer his tongue to his palate with it, I hear; O tempora,
O mores! The ancients, reclining godlike at their feasts, how had they
spurned such pedantries."

As soon as the ladies had disported themselves among the sugar-plums,
the tables were suddenly removed, and the guests sat in a row against
the wall. Then came in, ducking and scraping, two ecclesiastics with
lutes, and kneeled at the cardinal's feet and there sang the service
of the day; then retired with a deep obeisance: In answer to which
the cardinal fingered his skull cap as our late Iron Duke his hat: the
company dispersed, and Gerard had dined with a cardinal and one that had
thrice just missed being pope.

But greater honour was in store.

One day the cardinal sent for him, and after praising the beauty of his
work took him in his coach to the Vatican; and up a private stair to a
luxurious little room, with a great oriel window. Here were inkstands,
sloping frames for writing on, and all the instruments of art. The
cardinal whispered a courtier, and presently the Pope's private
secretary appeared with a glorious grimy old MS. of Plutarch's Lives.
And soon Gerard was seated alone copying it, awe-struck, yet half
delighted at the thought that his holiness would handle his work and
read it.

The papal inkstands were all glorious externally; but within the ink
was vile. But Gerard carried ever good ink, home-made, in a dirty little
inkhorn: he prayed on his knees for a firm and skilful hand, and set to
work.

One side of his room was nearly occupied by a massi