s
shop.

"The citizen painter is not at home," continued the other, "but he will
turn up at the proper time where he is wanted. Sun, moon, and stars may
fall from heaven, but he will not fail you. No more words! What I have
said, I have said. You can now return home, signorina, and need give
yourself no further uneasiness. Whatever occurs in the streets, you need
not worry. And finally"--they had by this time reached the ground floor
again--"it will be well for you to take a pair of shoes with you, to
make the coachman think you came on purpose for them. Here's a good
stout pair, serviceable for walking or for mountain-climbing. You can
rely on them. So take them along; you may need them sometime."

"But how do you know they will fit me?" asked Blanka.

"Citizeness, don't you remember the stone footprint of our Lord in the
church of _Domine quo vadis_? And may not the footprint of an angel have
been left in the sand of the Colosseum for a devout artist to copy in
his sketch-book? Such a sketch is enough for the Cittadino Scalcagnato
to make a pair of shoes from, so that they cannot fail to fit."

The princess turned rosy red. "I have no money with me to pay for them,"
she objected. "A footman usually accompanies me and pays for all my
purchases; but to-day I left him at home, and I neglected to take my
purse with me."

"No matter; I understand. I'll charge the amount. Here, take this purse
and pay your cab-fare out of it when you reach the square. Don't go home
in a carriage, but on foot. You needn't fear to do so, with a pair of
shoes in your hand. If your gold-laced lackey were with you, you might
meet with insult and abuse; but walking alone with the shoes in your
hand, you will not be molested, and you will find all quiet at home by
this time. Now enough said. I know all. You can pay me back later."

With that the little shoemaker escorted his guest to her carriage and
took leave of her with a polite request--intended for the cabman's
ear--for her further patronage.

Following the mysterious little man's directions, Blanka reached home
unharmed, and found everything there as she had left it. Whatever
violence the rioters may have allowed themselves in storming the
marchioness's quarters, her own wing of the palace, for some reason that
she could only vaguely conjecture, had been spared. After assuring
herself of this, the princess tried on her new shoes, and found that
Citizen Scalcagnato was no less skilful