As I had no answer ready, Issachar proceeded--briskly, confidentially,
and with alacrity. "It is indeed lucky for you," he said, "that you have
fallen into my hands; Fra Palamone--that old tusker with the useful
foot--would have flayed you alive and sold the skin. Now, I have
everything here that a man of honour can want--a neat jacket"--he
produced it--"shoes, stockings, garters?"--he put them on the bed. "A
hat?" He held up a broad-brimmed felt, with a draggled feather which
conferred no benefit upon it. "And now," he continued, "for your trade.
Short of chivalry, which involves horse exercise and is to be condemned
on the score of expense, peddling is the very thing for you. I
understand your requirements perfectly: put shortly they are: (a) piety,
(b) travel, (c) gallantry; beyond those you need health, reasonable
protection from law or lawlessness, honest profit. Well, take peddling.
It is safe, it is easy; you have company, you may make money; you see
all the sights and hear all the news, and you may repent as diligently
as you please through all. But my assistance will be better than you can
dream of. I am myself a pedlar, with a small stock left, which (as I am
going home to Venice) I shall make over to you at cost price. In
addition to that, I will hand my passport over to you, just as I have
given you my coat and hat. Read it, and you will see how exactly your
wheels fall into my ruts." He produced his passport and put it in my
hands. I found myself about to be described as "Issacaro, Ebreo, vendor
of pious objects," licensed by the Sacred College and vouched for by the
Grand Inquisitor. My features were said to be fleshy, my nose pendulous,
my hair black and curly, my shoulders narrow, my manner assured. I
objected that the description would never pass me over the frontier; but
Issachar replied, "Have no concern on that score. Observe my shoulders,
they are as level as your own. Can it be said of my manner that it fails
of delicacy? That passport was no more mine than it is now. The fact is