chickens, some cheese, a flat loaf, and a bottle of excellent red wine,
grown (as he told me) upon the Grand Duke's podere at Poggio a Cajano.
We had a cheerful meal, and separated for the night in high good humour.




CHAPTER XVI

VIRGINIA AND I FALL OUT, BUT ARE RECONCILED


I confess that I have never been able to feel the force of that argument
which says, for example, that because a man is a sheep-stealer he must
needs be a bad husband. As well might one set out to prove that a
parricide must inevitably prove an indifferent cook. In the person of
Fra Palamone, of whose scoundrelly proclivities I had had more than an
inkling already, it is undoubtedly true that many agreeable qualities
were to be found. He was, to use my illustration again, an admirable
cook; he was a good talker, a companionable man, a kindly host. Having
got my measure, as it were, and won of me by persuasion, what he had
failed to win by force, he was sensible enough to see that, if he wished
to keep me, he must curb his vile passion of rage. And so, for a while,
he did.

Trudging our road to Prato early in the morning, he was very gay.
Virginia stepped along by my side, a free-moving young creature who
never seemed to tire; but he struck out in front of us, most of the time
singing at the top of his voice very discreditable songs, or with a
joke, salutation, sarcasm or criticism for everybody we passed on the