ladies he met, indeed; for though the women-folk of some of the
philosophers were content to cook and darn for them (and perhaps
secretly burn a candle in their behalf to Saint Thomas Aquinas or Saint
Dominick, refuters of heresy), there were others who aspired to all the
honours of scholarship, and would order about their servant-girls in
Tuscan, and scold their babies in Ciceronian Latin. Among these fair
grammarians, however, he met none that wore her learning lightly. They
were forever tripping in the folds of their doctors' gowns, and
delivering their most trivial views ex cathedra; and too often the poor
philosophers, their lords and fathers, cowered under their harangues
like frightened boys under the tongue of a schoolmaster.

It was in fact only in the household of Orazio Vivaldi that Odo found
the simplicity and grace of living for which he longed. Alfieri had
warned him not to visit the Professor too often, since the latter, being
under observation, might be compromised by the assiduity of his friends.
Odo therefore waited for some days before presenting himself, and when
he did so it was at the angelus, when the streets were crowded and a
man's comings and goings the less likely to be marked. He found Vivaldi
reading with his daughter in the long library where the Honey-Bees held
their meetings; but Fulvia at once withdrew, nor did she show herself
again during Odo's visit. It was clear that, proud of her as Vivaldi
was, he had no wish to parade her attainments, and that in her daily
life she maintained the Italian habit of seclusion; but to Odo she was
everywhere present in the quiet room with its well-ordered books and
curiosities, and the scent of flowers rising through the shuttered
windows. He was sensible of an influence permeating even the inanimate
objects about him, so that they seemed to reflect the spirit of those
who dwelt there. No room had given him this sense of companionship since
he had spent his boyish holidays in the old Count Benedetto's