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The old Librarian knew the books, but the books seemed to know the young assistant; so it looked, at least, to the impatient young people who wanted their services. Maurice had a good many volumes of his own, a great many, according to Paolo's account; but Paolo's ideas were limited, and a few well-filled shelves seemed a very large collection to him.
Even the late Pope Clement had expressed admiration for his learning, while it was, nevertheless, well known that Fra Paolo's counsels to the Senate, in certain troubles arising out of Clement's attitude at Ferrara, had brought him the refusal of the bishoprics of Candia and Caorle; but, whatever the occasion, he was invariably discreet and fearless.
His wife was a sensible, discreet woman, whom he could trust with many professional secrets. He told her of Paolo's revelation, and talked it over with her in the light of his experience and her own; for she had known some curious cases of constitutional likes and aversions. Mrs. Butts buried the information in the grave of her memory, where it lay for nearly a week.
A group of his brother friars were strolling back and forth under the fretted colonnades of the greater court of the Servi one evening before vespers, a glow of relish on their genial, cowled faces, rehearsing the tale of Fra Paolo's unconventional slippers; for it was the hour of small gossip, and the day had been warm.
His wife was a sensible, discreet woman, whom he could trust with many professional secrets. He told her of Paolo's revelation, and talked it over with her in the light of his experience and her own; for she had known some curious cases of constitutional likes and aversions. Mrs. Butts buried the information in the grave of her memory, where it lay for nearly a week.
Casa Felice had already disappeared. The shore was hidden in the darkness. She could only see vaguely the mountain-tops. She paused, then dipped the oars again, but again after two or three strokes she had the sensation that she was being followed. She recalled Paolo's action when they were returning to Casa Felice in the evening, leaned over the boat's side and put her ear close to the water.
Fra Giulio trembled; he would have said those were the very grapes he had chosen to tempt Fra Paolo's slender appetite, white, with the veins of purple, all as he had left them on his desk that day, with the plate of fine white bread, when the midday meal was served but in no lordly dish. A faint cry escaped Fra Antonio, and he put his hands before his face.
He is a whirlwind; he carries a woman off her feet, before she knows what is happening, and we like that in a man, we Italians. We adore temperament. I was nice to the Baron and Baronessa for Paolo's sake. Then they suggested that we should have a little tour first; and we are having it Dio mio, so much the worse for me, till I met you! And now they make me feel like a naughty child."
"Santa Maria! here cometh the 'bride," some one exclaimed warningly; for none of Fra Paolo's friends had the courage for frivolity in his grave presence, harmless as it might appear in his absence, and this watchword was often heard in the cloister as he approached.
The Baron and his wife disputed volubly about the date of one of Paolo's grand dinners in Paris; Gaet
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