s now agitating the world, they are held of
less account than a problem in counterpoint or the construction of a
doubtful line in Ovid. As long as Truth goes naked she can scarce hope
to be received in good company; and her appearance would probably cause
as much confusion among the Bishop's literati as in the councils of the
Holy Office."

The old analogy likening the human mind to an imperfect mirror, which
modifies the images it reflects, occurred more than once to Odo during
the hunchback's lively delineation. It was impossible not to remember
that the speaker owed his education to the charity of the order he
denounced; and this fact suggested to Odo that the other lights and
shadows in the picture might be disposed with more art than accuracy.
Still, they doubtless embodied a negative truth, and Odo thought it
probable that such intellectual diversion as he could hope for must be
sought in the Bishop's circle.

It was two days later that he first beheld that prelate, heading the
ducal pilgrimage to the shrine of the mountain Virgin. The day had
opened with a confused flight of chimes from every bell-tower in
Pianura, as though a migratory flock of notes had settled for a moment
on the roofs and steeples of the city. The ducal party set forth early
from the palace, but the streets were already spanned with arches and
garlands of foliage, tapestries and religious paintings decked the
facades of the wealthier houses, and at every street-shrine a cluster of
candle-flames hovered like yellow butterflies above the freshly-gathered
flowers. The windows were packed with spectators, and the crowds who
intended to accompany the pilgrimage were already gathering, with their
painted and gilt candles, from every corner of the town. Each church and
monastery door poured forth its priests or friars to swell the line, and
the various lay confraternities, issuing in their distinctive dress from
their "lodges" or assembly-rooms, formed a link between the secular and
religious divisions of the procession. The market-place was strewn with
sand and sweet herbs; and here, on the doorsteps of the Cathedral,
between the featureless porphyry lions, the Bishop waited with his
red-robed chapter, and the deacons carrying the painted banners of the
diocese. Seen thus, with the cloth-of-gold dalmatic above his pontifical
tunic, the mitre surmounting his clear-cut impassive face, and the
crozier held aloft in his jewelled gloves, he might have