"Nossignore," disavowed Don Ambrogio, raising eyes the sincerity of
which there could be no suspecting.

John's face took on an expression of aggrieved surprise.

"But then why won't you tell me?"

"I cannot tell you because I do not know," said Don Ambrogio.

"Oh, I see," said John. "And yet," he argued meditatively, "that's hard
to conceive. I don't for a moment mean that I doubt it--but it's hard to
conceive, like the atomic theory, and some of the articles of religion.
(I hear, by-the-by, that the scientists are throwing the atomic theory
over. Oh, fickle scientists! Oh, shifting sands of science!) Surely
there can't be many such tall slender forms, in diaphanous garments,
appearing and disappearing here and there in your parish? And one would
suppose, antecedently, that you'd know them all."

"A peasant, a villager," said Don Ambrogio.

"I put it to you as an observer of life," said John, "do peasants, do
villagers, wear diaphanous garments?"

"A visitor, a sight-seer, from some place on the lake," said Don
Ambrogio.

"I put it to you as a student of probabilities," said John, "would a
visitor, would a sight-seer, from some place on the lake, walk in the
garden of the castle without a hat? And would she appear at Sant'