an pomposity in incomparable style.
But the prior and podesta were equally outvoted, for the roar of the
multitude was twice as loud as before. Then came other touches on the
_cavalieri serventi_, the ladies, the nuns, and the husbands, till every
class had its share: but the satire was so witty, that, keen as it was,
the shouts of the people silenced all disapprobation. He finished by a
brilliant stanza, in which he said, that "having been sent by Neptune
from the depths of the ocean to visit the earth, he had chosen for his
landing-place its most renowned spot, the birthplace of the gayest men
and the handsomest women--the exquisite Vicenza." With these words he
ascended from the shore, and was received with thunders of applause.

His figure was tall and elegant. He wore a loose, scarlet cloak thrown
over his fine limbs, Greek sandals, and a cap like that of the Italian
princes of three centuries before, a kind of low circle of green and
vermilion striped silk, clasped by a large rose of topaz. The men
universally said, that there was an atrocious expression in his
countenance; but the women, the true judges after all, said, without
exception, that this was envy in the men, and that the stranger was the
most "delightful looking _Diavolo_" they had ever set eyes on.

The stranger, on his landing, desired to be led to the principal hotel;
but he had not gone a dozen steps from the water-side, when he exclaimed
that he had lost his purse. Such an imputation was never heard before in
an Italian city; at least so swore the multitude; and the stranger was
on the point of falling several fathoms deep in his popularity. But he
answered the murmur by a laugh; and stopping in front of a beggar, who
lay at the corner of an hospital roaring out for alms, demanded the
instant loan of fifty sequins. The beggar lifted up his hands and eyes
in speechless wonder, and then shook out his rags, which, whatever else
they might show, certainly showed no sequins, "The sequins, or death!"
was the demand, in a tremendous voice. The beggar fell on the ground
convulsed, and from his withered hand, which every one had seen empty
the moment before, out flew fifty sequins, bright as if they had come
that moment from St. Mark's mint. The stranger took them from the
ground, and, with a smile, flung them up in a golden shower through the
crowd. The shouts were immense, and the mob insisted on carrying him to
the door of his hotel.

But the Venetian