“But, Signor Vice-governatore,” put in ’Maso, “these people have treated the holy father and his states in a way that one would not treat an Infidel or a Turk!”

“Aye, that is it, Signori,” observed Benedetta—­“a poor woman cannot go to mass without having her mind disturbed by the thoughts of the wrongs done the head of the church.  Had these things come from Luterani, it might have been borne; but they say the Francese were once all good Catholics!”

“So were the Luterani, bella Benedetta, to their chief schismatic and leader, the German monk himself.”

This piece of information caused great surprise, even the podesta himself turning an inquiring glance at his superior, as much as to acknowledge his own wonder that a Protestant should ever have been anything but a Protestant—­or rather, a Lutheran anything but a Lutheran—­the word Protestant being too significant to be in favor among those who deny there were any just grounds for a protest at all.  That Luther had ever been a Romanist was perfectly wonderful, even in the eyes of Vito Viti.

“Signore, you would hardly mislead these honest people, in a matter as grave as this!” exclaimed the podesta.

“I do but tell you truth; and one of these days you shall hear the whole story, neighbor Viti.  ’Tis worth an hour of leisure to any man, and is very consoling and useful to a Christian.  But whom have you below, Benedetta—­I hear steps on the stairs, and wish not to be seen.”

The widow stepped promptly forward to meet her new guests, and to show them into a commoner room, below stairs, when her movement was anticipated by the door’s opening, and a man’s standing on the threshold.  It was now too late to prevent the intrusion, and a little surprise at the appearance of the new-comer held all mute and observant for a minute.

The person who had followed his ears, and thus reached the sanctum sanctorum of Benedetta, was no other than Ithuel Bolt, the American seaman, already named in the earlier part of this chapter.  He was backed by a Genoese, who had come in the double capacity of interpreter and boon companion.  That the reader may the better understand the character he has to deal with, however, it may be necessary to digress, by giving a short account of the history, appearance, and peculiarities of the former individual.

Ithuel Bolt was a native of what, in this great Union, is called the Granite State, Notwithstanding he was not absolutely made of the stone in question, there was an absence of the ordinary symptoms of natural feeling about him, that had induced many of his French acquaintances in particular to affirm that there was a good deal more of marble in his moral temperament, at least, than usually fell to the lot of human beings.  He had the outline of a good frame, but it was miserably deficient in the filling up.  The bone predominated; the sinews came next in consideration, nor was the man without a proper share of muscle; but this last