There is much talk of Fra Paolo sifting about the church and square, where the gathering of the people shows a sprinkling of red-robed senators; for the Padre Maestro Paolo, which is his title since he has been Consultore to the Republic, is a great man now, with a greatness that means something to the populace, to whom letters and sciences are nothings.  But the Consultore is the friend of Venice; he is their friend—­coming each day to talk to the people.  “It is not true that great trouble has come upon Venice, for Fra Paolo makes it all quite plain, and he knows everything,” they say; “our padre in San Marcuolo is like a bimbo to him!  The Jesuit Fathers went too soon, and might have spared themselves the burning of their papers and their treasure.  Santa Maria!—­what is it they are saying about Fra Paolo finding the die for making money that the padri left behind?  What is a ‘die,’ Luigi?  If thou hadst had the sense to bring thy boat to clear away the rubbish, instead of thinking there are only fish in the world, thou mightest have had the luck to find it; it must be better than working lace bobbins all the week for a handful of soldi that wouldn’t buy one macaroni!”

“Peace, then, with thy babble!”

“See, then, the holy water is quite safe; I saw our padre cross himself by that first basin.  Thou hast done well,—­hein Luigi,—­to bring me from Burano, if there are no fish to-morrow at the Ave Maria; for now we can sleep in peace!  They told such tales of I Gesuiti, one thought the devils were having a holiday—­Santa Maria!”

“The women are worse for chattering,” Luigi retorts, with a forcible imprecation.  “Here cometh the Consultore—­hold thy tongue.”

“No, no, Luigi; it is only a frate from the Servi; Fra Paolo is a great man, with a robe like the Serenissimo; he might wear a crown if he liked!  Ah, to be great like that!”

But Fra Paolo and his secretary wore the grave garb of their order, to the great disappointment of the younger women, who had been attracted by the expectation of some pomp.

“Word hath reached the Contarini secretly from Rome,” said one senator to another, as the Consultore passed them, “that they have found themselves a new diversion before the palace of the Vatican, and that some of our great ones here are burned in effigy to instruct the populace.  A pile of Fra Paolo’s writings doth light the funeral pyre; and all that he hath written or may hereafter write is placed upon the Index.”

“Davvero! his words would make me wrathful if I held the views of his Holiness, who may well fear the incontrovertibility of his wit.  But our Consultore looketh a simple man to have been shown such honor!”

“He beareth honors bravely,” the other answered, with due appreciation of the humor; “but lately, when the master Galileo was before the Senate with his telescope, he had a pretty tale of Gian Penelli and Ghetaldo, wherewith in Padua Fra Paolo hath won the title of ’the miracle of the century.’”