_Anne._ An aptitude to believe one thing rather than another, from ignorance or weakness, or from the more persuasive manner of the teacher, or from his purity of life, or from the strong impression of a particular text at a particular time, and various things beside, may influence and decide our opinion; and the hand of the Almighty, let us hope, will fall gently on human fallibility. _Henry._ Opinion in matters of faith! rare wisdom! rare religion! Troth, Anne! thou hast well sobered me. I came rather warmly and lovingly; but these light ringlets, by the holy rood, shall not shade this shoulder much longer. Nay, do not start; I tap it for the last time, my sweetest. If the Church permitted it, thou shouldst set forth on thy long journey with the Eucharist between thy teeth, however loath. _Anne._ Love your Elizabeth, my honoured lord, and God bless you! She will soon forget to call me. Do not chide her: think how young she is. Could I, could I kiss her, but once again! it would comfort my heart--or break it. JOSEPH SCALIGER AND MONTAIGNE _Montaigne._ What could have brought you, M. de l'Escale, to visit the old man of the mountain, other than a good heart? Oh, how delighted and charmed I am to hear you speak such excellent Gascon. You rise early, I see: you must have risen with the sun, to be here at this hour; it is a stout half-hour's walk from the brook. I have capital white wine, and the best cheese in Auvergne. You saw the goats and the two cows before the castle. Pierre, thou hast done well: set it upon the table, and tell Master Matthew to split a couple of chickens and broil them, and to pepper but one. Do you like pepper, M. de l'Escale? _Scaliger._ Not much. _Montaigne._ Hold hard! let the pepper alone: I hate it. Tell him to broil plenty of ham; only two slices at a time, upon his salvation. _Scaliger._ This, I perceive, is the antechamber to your library: here are your everyday books. _Montaigne._ Faith! I have no other. These are plenty, methinks; is not that your opinion? _Scaliger._ You have great resources within yourself, and therefore can do with fewer. _Montaigne._ Why, how many now do you think here may be? _Scaliger._ I did not believe at first that there could be above fourscore. _Montaigne._ Well! are fourscore few?--are we talking of peas and beans? _Scaliger._ I and my father (put together) have written well-nigh as many. _Montaigne._ Ah! to write them is quite another thing: but one reads books without a spur, or even a pat from our Lady Vanity. How do you like my wine?--it comes from the little knoll yonder: you cannot see the vines, those chestnut-trees are between. _Scaliger._ The wine is excellent; light, odoriferous, with a smartness like a sharp child's prattle.