I expressed myself obliged to him, and added that though it might be very true that I deserved prison, I had other acts of penitence in view which could only be properly performed in Tuscany.  I said, “You would be justified—­if you knew the whole of my history—­in declining what I nevertheless urge upon your benevolence—­this crown-piece namely—–­” He assured me that no crime of mine, however unnatural, could cause him a momentary scruple, took the coin, spat upon it, pocketed it, and said that he was my servant and orator to the end of time.  At this moment the great Capuchin—­he of the covering foot—­took me by the arm and begged the favour of a word in my ear.  He was a hideous villain, broad-shouldered, scarred, hugely bearded, and had a prominent tooth in his lower jaw, rather loose, which stuck out like a tusk.  I have spoken of his breath, which was as the blast of a furnace.

“I see,” he said with an odious leer, “that you are a game-cock.  I knew you by your ruffle.  It was gallantly tried, and nearly successful.  I like your spirit much.  Come with me, and you shall not fail again.  You and I will take the road together, live at our ease, and live for nothing, and brave it with the best notwithstanding.  What do you say?  Shall we shake hands upon it?” Monster that he was, as he hovered over me there, grinning, moving his tooth, he inspired me with loathing.  I felt the blood tingle in my cheek.

“Better a Jew than a thieving renegade,” says I.  “That is my answer to you.  Go in peace.”

He said, “As you will,” and turned to his affairs.  I left the hospital with the benevolent Jew, whose name was Issachar.

CHAPTER VIII

THE PEDLAR OF CRUCIFIXES

Issacher, as well as being a cheerful, loquacious fellow and of ready wits, was so exceedingly kind as to support my weight upon his sparer frame.  My arm was heavy, I am sure, upon his neck, as his was certainly tight about my middle; but he uttered no complaints, indeed there was no room for them in the voluble series of his comments, confessions, promises and inquiries.  He said, as we made our painful way down the single street of Rovigo, “My dear friend, you and I have both failed in our enterprise, and for much the same reason; but really you must be a novice at the trade if you expect to get a free lodging with a pocketful of gold about you.  Confess that my invention of your wager was as happy as it was apt.  Done in a flash—­on the wings of the moment as they spread for a flight—­but that is my way—­I am like that.  The lodging of my key, however, was a folly of a sort I am never likely to commit again.  Another time I will swallow it.  It was indolence on my part—­my besetting weakness—­a child of a whim!  Having bestowed my goods, what but that hindered me from likewise bestowing the key?  I am vexed with myself, but I expected more company.  Who was to know there would be time for so much examination?  But now, sir, let me see how I can serve you.  An inn?  A meal?  A decent bed?  Medicaments?  All these you can have for a turn of your pretty golden key.”