the commiseration of the ladies; but at mention of the Bishop, Donna
Livia exchanged a glance with her sister, who enquired, with a quaint
air of astuteness, "But how comes it, abate, that with so powerful a
protector you have been exposed to such incredible reverses?"

Cantapresto rolled a meaning eye.

"Alas, madam, it was through my protector that misfortune attacked me;
for his lordship having appointed me secretary to his favourite nephew,
Don Serafino, that imprudent nobleman required of me services so
incompatible with my cloth that disobedience became a duty; whereupon,
not satisfied with dismissing me in disgrace, he punished me by
blackening my character to his uncle. To defend myself was to traduce
Don Serafino; and rather than reveal his courses to the Bishop I sank to
the state in which you see me; a state," he added with emotion, "that I
have travelled this long way to commend to the adorable pity of Her
whose Son had not where to lay His head."

This stroke visibly touched the canonesses, still soft from the
macerations of the morning; and Donna Livia compassionately asked how he
had subsisted since his rupture with the Bishop.

"Madam, by the sale of my talents in any service not at odds with my
calling: as the compiling of pious almanacks, the inditing of rhymed
litanies and canticles, and even the construction of theatrical
pieces"--the ladies lifted hands of reprobation--"of theatrical pieces,"
Cantapresto impressively repeated, "for the use of the Carmelite nuns of
Pianura. But," said he with a deprecating smile, "the wages of virtue
are less liberal than those of sin, and spite of a versatility I think I
may honestly claim, I have often had to subsist on the gifts of the