Ferris had the prejudice of all Italian sympathizers against the
priests; but for this he could hardly have found anything in Don
Ippolito to alarm dislike. His face was a little thin, and the chin was
delicate; the nose had a fine, Dantesque curve, but its final droop
gave a melancholy cast to a countenance expressive of a gentle and
kindly spirit; the eyes were large and dark and full of a dreamy
warmth. Don Ippolito's prevailing tint was that transparent blueishness
which comes from much shaving of a heavy black beard; his forehead and
temples were marble white; he had a tonsure the size of a dollar. He
sat silent for a little space, and softly questioned the consul's face
with his dreamy eyes. Apparently he could not gather courage to speak
of his business at once, for he turned his gaze upon the window and
said, "A beautiful position, Signor Console."

"Yes, it's a pretty place," answered Mr. Ferris, warily.

"So much pleasanter here on the Canalazzo than on the campos or the
little canals."

"Oh, without doubt."

"Here there must be constant amusement in watching the boats: great
stir, great variety, great life. And now the fine season commences, and
the Signor Console's countrymen will be coming to Venice. Perhaps,"
added Don Ippolito with a polite dismay, and an air of sudden anxiety
to escape from his own purpose, "I may be disturbing or detaining the
Signor Console?"

"No," said Mr. Ferris; "I am quite at leisure for the present. In what
can I have the honor of serving you?"