the comedy alone were not laughing, and their serious countenance added
to the fun of the performance. I marvelled at Bettina (who was always
ready to enjoy a good laugh) having sufficient control over herself to
remain calm and grave. Doctor Gozzi had also given way to merriment; but
begged that the farce should come to an end, for he deemed that his
father's eccentricities were as many profanations against the sacredness
of exorcism. At last the exorcist, doubtless tired out, went to bed
saying that he was certain that the devil would not disturb his daughter
during the night.

On the morrow, just as we had finished our breakfast, Father Mancia made
his appearance. Doctor Gozzi, followed by the whole family, escorted him
to his sister's bedside. As for me, I was entirely taken up by the face
of the monk. Here is his portrait. His figure was tall and majestic, his
age about thirty; he had light hair and blue eyes; his features were
those of Apollo, but without his pride and assuming haughtiness; his
complexion, dazzling white, was pale, but that paleness seemed to have
been given for the very purpose of showing off the red coral of his lips,
through which could be seen, when they opened, two rows of pearls. He was
neither thin nor stout, and the habitual sadness of his countenance
enhanced its sweetness. His gait was slow, his air timid, an indication
of the great modesty of his mind.

When we entered the room Bettina was asleep, or pretended to be so.
Father Mancia took a sprinkler and threw over her a few drops of holy
water; she opened her eyes, looked at the monk, and closed them
immediately; a little while after she opened them again, had a better
look at him, laid herself on her back, let her arms droop down gently,
and with her head prettily bent on one side she fell into the sweetest of
slumbers.