there met a
footman going back to Careggi, and he told him the Frate had been sent
for yesternight, after the Magnifico had confessed and had the holy
sacraments."

"It's likely enough the Frate will tell the people something about it in
his sermon this morning; is it not true, Nanni?" said Goro. "What do
you think?"

But Nanni had already turned his back on Goro, and the group was rapidly
thinning; some being stirred by the impulse to go and hear "new things"
from the Frate ("new things" were the nectar of Florentines); others by
the sense that it was time to attend to their private business. In this
general movement, Bratti got close to the barber, and said--

"Nello, you've a ready tongue of your own, and are used to worming
secrets out of people when you've once got them well lathered. I picked
up a stranger this morning as I was coming in from Rovezzano, and I can
spell him out no better than I can the letters on that scarf I bought
from the French cavalier. It isn't my wits are at fault,--I want no man
to help me tell peas from paternosters,--but when you come to foreign
fashions, a fool may happen to know more than a wise man."

"Ay, thou hast the wisdom of Midas, who could turn rags and rusty nails
into gold, even as thou dost," said Nello, "and he had also something of
the ass about him. But where is thy bird of strange plumage?"

Bratti was looking round, with an air of disappointment.

"Diavolo!" he said, with some vexation. "The bird's flown. It's true
he was hungry, and I forgot him. But we shall find him in the Mercato,
within scent of bread and savours, I'll answer for him."

"Let us make the round of the Mercato, then," said Nello.

"It isn't his feathers that puzzle me," continued Bratti, as they pushed
their way together. "There isn't much in the way of cut and cloth on
this side the Holy Sepulchre that can puzzle a Florentine."

"Or frighten him either," said Nello, "after he has seen an Englander or
a German."

"No, no," said Bratti, cordially; "one may never lose sight of the
Cupola and yet know the world, I hope. Besides, this stranger's clothes
are good Italian merchandise, and the hose he wears were dyed in
Ognissanti before ever they were dyed with salt water, as he says. But
the riddle about him is--"

Here Bratti's explanation was interrupted by some jostling as they
reached one of the entrances of the piazza, and before he could resume
it they had caught sight of the