The Jew, who had been looking on at my examination (quite unabashed at the mortification of his own), here interposed by telling me that the thing was a common form and must be gone through with.  I was about to shake him off for his impertinence when a chance phrase of his, “free lodging,” enlightened me.  This, then, was not what I understood by a hospital—­using the applied sense of the word—­but one of those original institutions, so-called, which were, of course, guest-houses for the poor.  The moment I understood that, I saw that I and Brother Hyacinth had been at cross-purposes.  I pulled out my handful of money and spilled some pieces upon the floor.  Instantly the great friar behind me clapped his foot upon them.  The Jew hunted down the rest.

Brother Hyacinth now recoiled.  “What does this mean?” he asked.  “Are you a fool, or a thief, or an impudent rascal?”

“You are mistaken,” I replied, “I am none; but it is clear that I have deceived you.  Had I understood the real objects of your hospital—­which, I am compelled to add, you have most successfully concealed—­I should not have been before you.  I am ill and in great pain.  I supposed that you could give me assistance.  And even now, should that be possible, I would accept it, and pay for it.”  Brother Hyacinth, with keen displeasure, said that mine was a case for the police, and that, while he should decline my money, he was minded to detain my person for their consideration; but the Jew thereupon broke in with more assurance than I should have thought him capable of.  “Your pardon, very reverend,” he said, “but this is a case for the best physician in Rovigo, and the best bed in the best inn.  This gentleman, as I knew very well from the first, is acting for a wager.  Only your astuteness has prevented him from winning it.  He has failed, but not by much; it is an honourable defeat.  He very willingly bestows upon you two ducats for the beneficent purposes of the hospital—­those very two, in fact, which the reverend frate behind him has covered with his foot.  With the others he will return to his noble parents, being furnished with a certificate from your reverence to the effect that he has failed in his endeavour.”

The clerk, who had by this time extracted the two pieces from beneath the foot of the Capuchin (who loudly denied that they were there), was now whispering with Brother Hyacinth.  After a short time he drew me apart and told me that but for him I should certainly be sent to prison.  The brother-in-charge, he said, believed me to be a highway thief—­or professed that he did—­against all reason; for said the clerk, “As I told his reverence, if your honour had been a thief it is very unlikely that we should have had the pleasure of your company at the hospital.  His reverence has made difficulties—­it has been hard to convince him, though your honour’s generosity to the hospital has not been without effect.  I flatter myself that my arguments have been useful.  Any further service I can do your honour, I shall very thankfully undertake.”