was predestined by
nature to play a small part in our story, God showed him grace for that
time, and sent to his assistance--not one of His angels, the rogue was
not worthy of that, but--one of Brancaleone's hunting dogs. The noble
animal sniffed round the philosopher, and uttered a little charitable
growl that would have done credit to one of the brethren of Mount St.
Bernard. The prince, who was returning in triumph from hunting, and who,
by good luck, had that day killed a bear and ruined a countess, had an
odd inclination to do a good deed. He approached the plebeian who was
about to pass into the condition of a corpse, stirred the thing with his
foot, and seeing that there was still a little hope, bade his people
bring him along.

From that day onward, Trespolo saw the dream of his life nearly realised.
Something rather above a footman and rather below a house steward, he
became the confidant of his master, who found his talents most useful;
for this Trespolo was as sharp as a demon and almost as artful as a
woman. The prince, who, like an intelligent man as he was, had divined
that genius is naturally indolent, asked nothing of him but advice; when
tiresome people wanted thrashing, he saw to that matter himself, and,
indeed, he was the equal of any two at such work. As nothing in this
lower world, however, is complete, Trespolo had strange moments amid this
life of delights; from time to time his happiness was disturbed by panics
that greatly diverted his master; he would mutter incoherent words,
stifle violent sighs, and lose his appetite. The root of the matter was
that the poor fellow was afraid of going to hell. The matter was very
simple: he was afraid of everything; and, besides, it had often been
preached to him that the Devil never allowed a moment's rest to those who
were ill-advised enough to fall into his clutches. Trespolo was in one
of his good moods of repentance, when the prince, after gazing on the
young girl with the fierce eagerness of a vulture about to swoop upon its
prey, turned to speak to his intimate adviser. The poor servant
understood his master's abominable design, and not wishing to share the
guilt of a sacrilegious conversation, opened his eyes very wide and
turned them up to heaven in ecstatic contemplation. The prince coughed,
stamped his foot, moved his sword so as to hit Trespolo's legs, but could
not get from him any sign of attention, so absorbed did he appear in
celest