wonderfully bright eyes, and came towards me as though we were old
acquaintances, laughing and chattering, and showing me her toys.

On my way back, early in the evening, as luck would have it, I almost
ran into the arms of Bernardo. He was delighted to see me, told me of
his merry life and adventures, and wanted to drag me into an artists'
tavern to drink a bottle of wine. That was impossible for me, a Jesuits'
pupil. I refused. As we walked on we met a crowd hustling an old Jew. A
thick-set brute of a fellow wanted to force him to jump over a long
stick, and everybody shouted, "Leap, Jew!" Bernardo sprang forth,
snatched the stick out of the fellow's hand, brandished his sword, and
cried in a strong, manly voice, "Leap yourself, or I shall cleave your
head!" He made him jump, and jump again, and struck him lightly with the
flat of his sword. The crowd veered round at once, laughed and
applauded, the old Jew meanwhile making his escape. "Come," said I, when
we were out of the crowd, "come! Let them say what they may, I will
drink a bottle of wine with you. May we always be friends!"

I met Bernardo again some time after at the Vatican. His joy equalled
mine, and he immediately plunged into confidences. One day, when
straying into the Ghetto, he had encountered the old Jew of our
adventure, bowing and scraping, and requesting the honour of receiving,
him in his house. They entered; wine was brought to him by a dark Jewish
maiden, of such beauty as to set his whole blood on fire. Since then he
had vainly tried to see her. He visited the Jew's house on all sorts of
pretexts, but his charmer remained invisible. He now made the amazing
proposition that I should take up the study of Hebrew with the old Jew,
and thus help him in this affair. I explained the utter impossibility of
aiding him in a project of this nature. He was obviously offended; and
when we parted he returned my warmth with chilly politeness.