ed to derive a certain
consolation from the prayers which many of them put up in his behalf. In
Italy a copper coin of minute value will often make all the difference
between a vindictive curse--death by apoplexy being the favorite
one-mumbled in an old witch's toothless jaws, and a prayer from the same
lips, so earnest that it would seem to reward the charitable soul with
at least a puff of grateful breath to help him heavenward. Good wishes
being so cheap, though possibly not very efficacious, and anathemas so
exceedingly bitter,--even if the greater portion of their poison remain
in the mouth that utters them,--it may be wise to expend some reasonable
amount in the purchase of the former. Donatello invariably did so; and
as he distributed his alms under the pictured window, of which we have
been speaking, no less than seven ancient women lifted their hands and
besought blessings on his head.

"Come," said the sculptor, rejoicing at the happier expression which he
saw in his friend's face. "I think your steed will not stumble with you
to-day. Each of these old dames looks as much like Horace's Atra Cura
as can well be conceived; but, though there are seven of them, they will
make your burden on horseback lighter instead of heavier."

"Are we to ride far?" asked the Count.

"A tolerable journey betwixt now and to-morrow noon," Kenyon replied;
"for, at that hour, I purpose to be standing by the Pope's statue in the
great square of Perugia."

CHAPTER XXXIV

MARKET DAY IN PERUGIA

Perugia, on its lofty hilltop, was reached by the two travellers before
the sun had quite kissed away the early freshness of the morning. Since
midnight, there had been a heavy, rain, bringing infinite refreshment to
the scene of verdure and fertility amid which this ancient civilization
stands; insomuch that Kenyon loitered, when they came to the gray city
wall, and was loath to give up the prospect of the sunny wilderness that
lay below. It was as green as England, and bright as Italy alone. There
was all the wide valley, sweeping down and spreading away on all sides
from the weed grown ramparts, and bounded afar by mountains, which lay
asleep in the sun, with thin mists and silvery clouds floating about
their heads by way of morning dreams.

"It lacks still two hours of noon," said the sculptor to his friend, as
they stood under the arch of the gateway, waiting for their passports
to be examined; "will you come with me to