is n't a Jesuit--he is a Capuchin," said Susanna.

"They are all Jesuits," said the Commendatore, with a sweeping gesture.
"A brown-back--a funeral-follower--a prayer-monger," he growled,
brushing his immense moustaches upwards, to emphasize his scorn.

"Hush," Susanna remonstrated, lifting her hand. "You must n't rail
against religion."

"I do not rail against religion," answered the Commendatore. "Taken in
moderation, religion is an excellent thing--for women. Did I not see
that you were religiously brought up? But when it comes to these
priests, these Jesuits,--when it comes to that Father Angelo,--I would
have them all hung up and smoke-dried, to make bacon of. Garrh!" he
snorted, tossing his head.

"Yes, I know," murmured Susanna. "You were always jealous of Father
Angelo."

"I? Jealous of that gnawer of fish-bones? It is probable," sniffed
the Commendatore.

He rose from his chair, and stood before her, very slim and erect, his
chin thrust forward, so that the tendons of his long thin neck showed
like wires.

"But I am an old ass. I can deny you nothing. I go to your cousin,"
he consented.

"You are an old dear," said Susanna. "I knew you would go."

Her eyes were brimming with mirth, with triumph, with fondness. She
rose too, and gently patted his stiffly-starched white duck sleeve.

After he was gone, she crossed one of the light marble bridges, and
walked in the garden on Isola Sorella, where it was shaded by a row of
ilexes. Blackcaps (those tireless ubiquitous minstrels) were singing
wildly overhead; ring-doves kept up their monotonous coo-cooing.
Beyond, in the sun, butterflies flitted among the flowers, cockchafers
heavily droned and blundered, a white peacock strutted, and at the
water's edge two long-legged, wry-necked flamingoes stood motionless,
like sentinels. At the other side of the ilexes stretched a bit of
bright green lawn, with a fountain plashing in the middle, from whose
spray the sun struck sparks of iridescent fire; and then, terrace upon
terrace, the garden rose to a summit, where there was a belvedere.

I don't know how many times Susanna strolled backwards and forwards, I
don't know how many times she looked at her watch. Here and there
semi-circular marble benches were placed. Sometimes she would sit down
and rest for a little; but she was soon up again, walking, walking,
looking at her watch. At last she left the shade, crossed the lawn,
ascended the terr