reat measure men of sentiment, the
sentiment an author manifests either for or against his characters is
no longer indifferent to us."

"Oh I know," returned Erminus, "little flesh, much soul, that is the
motto of the present day. But I happen to be just a man of the
unsentimental middle ages, though not in the romantic sense, and
therefore I had better keep my story to myself, for its structure is
by no means adapted to the attire of the present day, and while the
poets now present might turn up their nose at its very decidedly
old-fashioned form, I should fear to shock the ladies by its incidents,
though I for my part consider it perfectly moral."

"Since you yourself are quite sufficiently moral for us," said Frau
Eugenie, "this assurance will induce us to listen to your story without
a scruple."

"Especially since there is no un-confirmed young lady present," added
Frau Helena.

"With the exception of the little innocent here in the cradle,"
observed Frau Anna, "but she apparently intends to shut her eyes to
it."

"As to that point then I may feel safe in venturing," said Erminus.
"But now a sudden fear comes over me that this favourite of mine that
pleased me so much in private, may show itself awkward and unattractive
if I introduce it into such a fastidious circle. And my old chronicler
from whom I copied these few unpretending pages merely for my own
pleasure, was, I own, no poet like Boccacio and his companions, though
in this story he came pretty near them."

"Do not let us waste more time on the preface," said the professor.
"The worst that can happen to your story, is a poet's looking on it as
merely raw material, and, if it rains for another fortnight, making a
tragedy or a comedy out of it which may remain as a blot on the stage."

"So be it, then!" sighed Erminus, thus fairly driven into a corner, and
off he went to fetch his tale.

Before long he returned, a portfolio under his arm, from which he drew
a manuscript volume.

"The manuscript is twenty years old," he said, taking his seat in the
window, and spreading it out on his knee. "I chanced at that time to be
gathering materials for a history of the Lombard towns, and had come to
Treviso, where I hoped to find both in the Civic Records and in the
cloister-library treasures, which, alas! did not fall to my share. It
was only at the Dominicans at San Niccolo that I stumbled on a
remarkable chronicle, dating about the end of the 14th century,