g market-cart; and the glance was just long enough to seize
the beckoning movement of his hand, which indicated that he had been
watching for this opportunity of an adieu.

"_Ebbene_," said Bratti, raising his voice to speak across the cart; "I
leave you with Nello, young man, for there's no pushing my bag and
basket any farther, and I have business at home. But you'll remember
our bargain, because if you found Tessa without me, it was not my fault.
Nello will show you my shop in the Ferravecchi, and I'll not turn my
back on you."

"A thousand thanks, friend!" said the stranger, laughing, and then
turned away with Nello up the narrow street which led most directly to
the Piazza del Duomo.

CHAPTER THREE.

THE BARBER'S SHOP.

"To tell you the truth," said the young stranger to Nello, as they got a
little clearer of the entangled vehicles and mules, "I am not sorry to
be handed over by that patron of mine to one who has a less barbarous
accent, and a less enigmatical business. Is it a common thing among you
Florentines for an itinerant trafficker in broken glass and rags to talk
of a shop where he sells lutes and swords?"

"Common? No: our Bratti is not a common man. He has a theory, and
lives up to it, which is more than I can say for any philosopher I have
the honour of shaving," answered Nello, whose loquacity, like an
over-full bottle, could never pour forth a small dose. "Bratti means to
extract the utmost possible amount of pleasure, that is to say, of hard
bargaining, out of this life; winding it up with a bargain for the
easiest possible passage through purgatory, by giving Holy Church his
winnings when the game is over. He has had his will made to that effect
on the cheapest terms a notary could be got for. But I have often said
to him, `Bratti, thy bargain is a limping one, and thou art on the lame
side of it. Does it not make thee a little sad to look at the pictures
of the Paradiso? Thou wilt never be able there to chaffer for rags and
rusty nails: the saints and angels want neither pins nor tinder; and
except with San Bartolommeo, who carries his skin about in an
inconvenient manner, I see no chance of thy making a bargain for
second-hand clothing.' But God pardon me," added Nello, changing his
tone, and crossing himself, "this light talk ill beseems a morning when
Lorenzo lies dead, and the Muses are tearing their hair--always a
painful thought to a barber; and you yourself, Messere, are