’What!’ roared Lanti, ’saints all around! This is the right hagiolatry, where I need never despair of a niche for myself. I too am the son of my father, dear Messer Ciacco, as this Parablist is, I’ll protest, of your Abbot, whose piety is an old story. What! you don’t recognise a family likeness?’ The landlord abased himself between deference and roguery. ’It is not for me to say, Magnificent. I am no expert to prove the common authorship of this picture and the other.’ He lowered his eyes with a demure leer. Honest Lanti, bending to rally him, chuckled loudly, and then, rising, brought his whip with a boisterous smack across his shoulders. The landlord jumped and winced. ’Spoken like a discreet son of the Church!’ cried the cavalier. He breathed out his chest, drained his glass, still laughing into it, and, handing it down, settled himself in his saddle. ’And so,’ he said, ’this saintly whelp of a saint is on his way to rebuke the lord of Sforza?’ ’With deference, my lord, like a younger Nathan. So he hath been miscalled—I speak nothing from myself. The young man hath lived all his days among visions and voices; and at the last, it seems, they’ve spelled him out Galeazzo—though what the devil the need is there? as your Magnificence says. But perhaps they made a mistake in the spelling. The blessed Fathers themselves teach us that the best holiness lacks education.’ Madonna laughed out a little. ’This is a very good fool!’ she murmured, and yawned. ’I don’t know about that,’ said Lanti, answering the landlord, and wagging his sage head. ’I’m not the most pious of men myself. But tell us, sirrah, how travels his innocence?’ ’On foot, my lord, like a prophet’s.’ ’’Twill the sooner lie prone.’ He turned to my lady. ’Wouldst like to add him to Cicada and thy monkey, and carry him along with us?’ ’Nay,’ she said pettishly, ’I have enough of monstrosities. Will you keep me in the sun all day?’ ’Well,’ said Lanti, gathering his reins, ’it puzzles me only how the Abbot could part thus with his discretion.’ ’Nay, Illustrious,’ answered the landlord, ’he was in a grievous pet, ’tis stated. But, there! prophecy will no more be denied than love. A’ must out or kill. And so he had to let Messer Bembo go his gaits with a letter only to this monastery and that, in providence of a sanctuary, and one even, ’tis whispered, to the good Duchess Bona herself. But here, by the token, he comes.’ He bowed deferentially, backing apart. Messer Lanti stared, and gave a profound whistle. ’O, indeed!’ he muttered, showing his strong teeth, ’this Giuseppe propagates the faith very prettily!’