asked where I was staying.

"Nowhere," said I; "I came from Zurich on foot, and my first visit was to
your church."

I do not know whether I pronounced these words with an air of
compunction, but the abbot joined his hands and lifted them to heaven, as
if to thank God for touching my heart and bringing me there to lay down
the burden of my sins. I have no doubt that these were his thoughts, as I
have always had the look of a great sinner.

The abbot said it was near noon and that he hoped I would do him the
honour of dining with him, and I accepted with pleasure, for I had had
nothing to eat and I knew that there is usually good cheer in such
places. I did not know where I was and I did not care to ask, being
willing to leave him under the impression that I was a pilgrim come to
expiate my sins.

On our way from the church the abbot told me that his monks were fasting,
but that we should eat meat in virtue of a dispensation he had received
from Benedict XIV., which allowed him to eat meat all the year round with
his guests. I replied that I would join him all the more willingly as the
Holy Father had given me a similar dispensation. This seemed to excite
his curiosity about myself, and when we got to his room, which did not
look the cell of a penitent, he hastened to shew me the brief, which he
had framed and glazed and hung up opposite the table so that the curious
and scrupulous might have it in full view.

As the table was only laid for two, a servant in full livery came in and
brought another cover; and the humble abbot then told me that he usually