was the child of poor but thieving parents, and on that account was early
left an orphan. Being at leisure, he studied life from an eminently
social aspect. If we are to believe a certain ancient sage, we are all
in the world to solve a problem: as to Trespolo, he desired to live
without doing anything; that was his problem. He was, in turn, a
sacristan, a juggler, an apothecary's assistant, and a cicerone, and he
got tired of all these callings. Begging was, to his mind, too hard work,
and it was more trouble to be a thief than to be an honest man. Finally
he decided in favour of contemplative philosophy. He had a passionate
preference for the horizontal position, and found the greatest pleasure
in the world in watching the shooting of stars. Unfortunately, in the
course of his meditations this deserving man came near to dying of
hunger; which would have been a great pity, for he was beginning to
accustom himself not to eat anything. But as he was predestined by
nature to play a small part in our story, God showed him grace for that
time, and sent to his assistance--not one of His angels, the rogue was
not worthy of that, but--one of Brancaleone's hunting dogs. The noble
animal sniffed round the philosopher, and uttered a little charitable
growl that would have done credit to one of the brethren of Mount St.
Bernard. The prince, who was returning in triumph from hunting, and who,
by good luck, had that day killed a bear and ruined a countess, had an
odd inclination to do a good deed. He approached the plebeian who was
about to pass into the condition of a corpse, stirred the thing with his
foot, and seeing that there was still a little hope, bade his people
bring him along.

From that day onward, Trespolo saw the dream of his life nearly realised.
Something rather above a footman and rather below a house steward, he
became the confidant of his master, who found his talents most useful;
for this Trespolo was as sharp as a demon and almost as artful as a