"But why all this mystery, and why this sober suit?" exclaimed the other, taking hold of his cloak, with a gay laugh; "this smells strongly of Geneva; and your brown jerkin is worthy of a true disciple of Beza. In pity, John, do not let him affect the outward man. Be as rigid as you will in resisting the powers of the Babylonian lady on your heart and mind, but do not carry your religion into taffeta, or suffer tenets to interfere with silk and satin. The religion that kills one innocent joy, is not the religion of Him who more than once told us to rejoice; and I cannot help thinking, that those who prescribe particular clothing for particular ceremonies, and those who proscribe it upon all occasions, are equally foolish and wrong." "And so do I," answered his companion; "you will not find me altered in the least in those things; but the cause of my homely suit, and the mystery of my coming is the same, and very simple. I did not wish to be recognised by any of our good teachers here in this learned university, nor by any of our old companions but yourself. To show you, however, that I am no fanatic, know that I am even now on my way to Rome, to see the wonders of the eternal city and his holiness the Pope, though I shall not certainly ask his blessing, from a very strong doubt of its doing me any good." "There I agree with you," replied his friend; "though the blessing of a good man can never do one any harm, and there might be worse men than Clement; but what have you done with your retinue? Where are all the servants, where the famous tutor, Dominie Rhind?" "Gone on to Monselice," replied the other, "there to wait for my coming, if they can find room in the little inn, and if not, to travel farther, to Rovigo. But you have my messenger with you, have you not? I bade him wait my coming." "Good sooth have I," answered the other, "and the mad knave has kept the whole of Padua in an uproar for the last three days. What between jeering the men, making love to the women, and playing with the children, he has made friends and enemies enough to serve a man a lifetime." "He is incorrigible!" said his friend, with an air of vexation. "I was forced to send him away from Geneva, for Beza would not tolerate him, and I loved not to see the good old man distressed. But the fellow promised amendment, and he is so attached and faithful, that his virtues and his vices, like a Spanish olla, are blended into a very savoury dish, though of the most opposite ingredients. I laid strict injunctions upon him to be discreet, and above all, never to mention my name."