Upon this our shoemaker begins a theological discourse, expatiating upon the power of faith and upon the virtue of the paternal blessing.  He throws off his cloak, takes a crucifix with one hand, places the other over the head of his daughter, and addresses the devil in such an amusing way that even his wife, always a stupid, dull, cross-grained old woman, had to laugh till the tears came down her cheeks.  The two performers in the comedy alone were not laughing, and their serious countenance added to the fun of the performance.  I marvelled at Bettina (who was always ready to enjoy a good laugh) having sufficient control over herself to remain calm and grave.  Doctor Gozzi had also given way to merriment; but begged that the farce should come to an end, for he deemed that his father’s eccentricities were as many profanations against the sacredness of exorcism.  At last the exorcist, doubtless tired out, went to bed saying that he was certain that the devil would not disturb his daughter during the night.

On the morrow, just as we had finished our breakfast, Father Mancia made his appearance.  Doctor Gozzi, followed by the whole family, escorted him to his sister’s bedside.  As for me, I was entirely taken up by the face of the monk.  Here is his portrait.  His figure was tall and majestic, his age about thirty; he had light hair and blue eyes; his features were those of Apollo, but without his pride and assuming haughtiness; his complexion, dazzling white, was pale, but that paleness seemed to have been given for the very purpose of showing off the red coral of his lips, through which could be seen, when they opened, two rows of pearls.  He was neither thin nor stout, and the habitual sadness of his countenance enhanced its sweetness.  His gait was slow, his air timid, an indication of the great modesty of his mind.

When we entered the room Bettina was asleep, or pretended to be so.  Father Mancia took a sprinkler and threw over her a few drops of holy water; she opened her eyes, looked at the monk, and closed them immediately; a little while after she opened them again, had a better look at him, laid herself on her back, let her arms droop down gently, and with her head prettily bent on one side she fell into the sweetest of slumbers.

The exorcist, standing by the bed, took out his pocket ritual and the stole which he put round his neck, then a reliquary, which he placed on the bosom of the sleeping girl, and with the air of a saint he begged all of us to fall on our knees and to pray, so that God should let him know whether the patient was possessed or only labouring under a natural disease.  He kept us kneeling for half an hour, reading all the time in a low tone of voice.  Bettina did not stir.

Tired, I suppose, of the performance, he desired to speak privately with Doctor Gozzi.  They passed into the next room, out of which they emerged after a quarter of an hour, brought back by a loud peal of laughter from the mad girl, who, when she saw them, turned her back on them.  Father Mancia smiled, dipped the sprinkler over and over in the holy water, gave us all a generous shower, and took his leave.