ch in what we admire.
Neither this mountain of marble, nor the lacework and pinnacles which
adorn the enormous mass, nor the amazing number of statues, nor the
sight of men smaller than flies on the Piazza del Duomo, nor the vast
stretch of flat country which spreads for miles on every side of the
city--none of these sights kindled the spark of enthusiasm within me
which has often glowed for much less. No, what pleased me was something
quite different, a detail not noticed in the guide-books, I suppose.

I had come down from the roof and was wandering in the vast nave from
pillar to pillar, when I found myself beneath the lantern. I raised
my eyes, but the flood of golden light compelled me to close them.
The sunlight passing through the yellow glass of the windows overhead
encircled the mighty vault of the lantern with a fiery crown, and played
around the walls of its cage in rays which, growing fainter as they
fell, flooded the floor with their expiring flames, a mysterious
dayspring, a diffused glory, through which litany and sacred chant
winged their way up toward the Infinite.

I left the cathedral tired out, dazed with weariness and sunlight, and
fell asleep in a chair as soon as I got back to my room, on the fifth
floor of the Albergo dell' Agnello.

I had been asleep for about an hour, perhaps, when I thought I heard a
voice near me repeating "Illustre Signore!"

I did not wake. The voice continued with a murmur of sibilants:

"Illustrissimo Signore!"

This drew me from my sleep, for the human ear is very susceptible to
superlatives.

"What is it?"

"A letter for your lordship. As it is marked 'Immediate,' I thought I
might take the liberty of disturbing your lordship's slumbers."

"You did quite right, Tomaso."

"You owe me eight sous, signore, which I paid for the postage."

"There's half a franc, keep the change."

He retired calling me Monsieur le Comte; and all for two sous--O
fatherland of Brutus! The letter was from Lampron, who had forgotten to
put a stamp on it.

"MY DEAR FRIEND:

"Madame Plumet, to whom I believe you have given no instructions so
to do, is at present busying herself considerably about your
affairs. I felt I ought to warn you, because she is all heart and
no brains, and I have often seen before the trouble into which an
overzealous friend may get one, especially if the friend be a woman.

"I fear some serious indiscretion has been committed, for t