strength and determination were very extraordinary; I was to learn
within a few weeks how strong he was, how ferocious and dangerous. His
age might be guessed at near sixty for all his vivacity, for at close
quarters I could see unmistakably the senile arc in either eye, and, as
the reader knows, his hair and beard were very white. Debauchery may
have left these marks upon him, but had not worn out his force. That, at
any rate, was still enough to resolve the irresolute Francis, an
incurable believer in the native goodness of mankind, to obey him in
this instance. I am by nature pliant and easily led, and I have never
been one for half measures. Therefore I received upon my staff the
Capuchin's bundle in addition to my own, and followed my leader towards
the guard-house, within sight of which, crooking his knees together
under his frock, drawing in his shoulders, poking his head, the sturdy
rogue reduced his apparent size and expression more materially than
could be believed. His calculating eyes grew weak and watery, he
snivelled at the nose, drew his breath sharply as if it hurt him--almost
visibly shrank into himself. I looked at him with amazement, but the
officers seemed to know him very well.

"Ho, Fra Clemente," says one, "on the round again, it appears!" The
Capuchin quavered his admission, his hand shook as he proffered his
passport. Yes, yes, poor Brother Clement must live, find consolation if
he could. A festival at Prato called him, a great affair; but he was
getting very sadly, as his friends might see, could not keep the road
much longer. The Customs officers gave him back his papers with scarcely
a glance to spare for them, and had no ears for his maundering, so
occupied were they with me, his companion. "Whom have we here, Fra
Clemente?" said one presently, and sent my heart into my throat. But the
Capuchin sniggered and touched his nose with his finger; there was an
air of low cunning about him very unpleasant to observe. "This, Sor