to repeal this preposterous decree.  The first and only good thing that I ever heard of him.—­M.  H.] By means of this Monna Bianca and Virginia laid Fra Palamone by the heels.  The girl was sent to spend the night with Monna Bianca’s sister-in-law, who lived with her husband (a notary public) and own sister in the suburbs of Prato, just outside the Porta Fiorentina.  Thither Fra Palamone went in pursuit of his infamous plans, and there he was found by the sbirri of the Holy Office.  The case was clear enough against him, for I need not say that there was no love lost between the frate and the Jesuits.  Much as may be urged against that learned body of politicians, no one has ever laid a pandering to profligacy or chicane to their account.  The sister of Monna Bianca’s sister-in-law was a marriageable woman, Fra Palamone was in the house with her, and was there caught by the Inquisition and haled off to their house of correction.  Virginia and I set out at liberty to Florence, decently clad, decently shod, with the remains of our ten florins in my breeches pocket.  I remember Monna Bianca’s parting advice very well.  “Farewell, Don Francis,” it was, “good luck to you and this honest girl.  Pursue your Aurelia as ardently as you will, you are only doing after your age and degree in the world.  Let me advise you to write to Padua for your portmanteau and effects.  You will love your mistress none the less for a good coat to your back, nor she you, I promise you.  Besides, I believe in a gentleman living as a gentleman.  Marry off your Miss Virginia, who has her wits about her, to your valet, or to anybody else’s valet who will take her.  Your position with regard to her does you infinite credit with me; but I cannot answer for Madam Aurelia.  Or rather, I can answer for her that it will do you precisely the reverse.  And—­I have a son of my own, remember—­inform your father of your whereabouts in Florence.  To meet again, Don Francis—­addio!”

That was a reasonable friendly soul; but it was not to be supposed that she could understand the reverential attitude of a young man to his mistress.

CHAPTER XIX

I AM AGAIN MISCONCEIVED

The aspect of Florence, surveyed from the crags of Fiesole, or from that gentler eyrie of Bellosguardo, is one of the most enchanting visions open to the eye of man, so cunningly have art and nature joined their webbing; but that which can be harvested upon the road from Prato is not at all extraordinary.  Suburb there succeeds to dirty suburb, the roads are quags or deep in dust, the company as disagreeable as it is mean.  Approaching the city from that side, you neither know that within a short mile of you are the dome of Brunelleschi, the Tower of Giotto, the David of Michael Angelo—­nor do you greatly care.  At least I did not, being sadly out of spirits, upon that day of rain, steam and weariness, when, with the young Virginia springing by my side, I limped within the Porta al Prato and stood upon the sacred soil of the Second Athens.  Quick to feel impressions, too quick to read in them signs and portents, I felt fatality press upon my brows.