I told him that he must not dream of eating that; he was to come and dine with me at my hotel. He replied that he would go wherever I liked, but that really he would prefer to eat his bread unless indeed we were so fortunate as to find a beggar who would like it. However, we were not so fortunate, and I was compelled to eat my exceedingly substantial five-course luncheon while my companion sat opposite me and ate his half-loaf of black bread with what appeared to be appetite and satisfaction. He asked me a great many questions about what everything in the room was used for and what everything cost, and appeared very much surprised at my answers. “This, then,” he said, “is not like all the other houses in Venice? Is it a special house—perhaps for the English only?” I explained to him that most houses contained tables and chairs; that this, being a hotel, was in some ways even less furnished than a private house, though doubtless it was larger and was arranged with a special eye to foreign requirements. “But the poor—they do not live like this?” Leo asked. I had to own that the poor did not. “But the people here are rich?” Leo persisted. “Well, yes, I suppose so, tolerably well off,” I admitted. “How miserable they must be!” exclaimed Leo, compassionately. “Are they not allowed to give away their money?” This seemed hardly the way to approach the question of the rich and the poor, and I do not know that I made it any better by an after-dinner exposition upon capital and labor. I finished, of course, by saying that if the rich gave to the poor to-day, there would still be rich and poor to-morrow. It did not sound very convincing to me, and it did nothing whatever to convince Brother Leo. “That is perhaps true,” he said at last. “One would not wish, however, to give all into unready hands like that poor beggar this morning who knew no better than to pretend in order to get more money. No, that would be the gift of a madman. But could not the rich use their money in trust for the poor, and help and teach them little by little till they learned how to share their labor and their wealth? But you know how ignorant am I who speak to you. It is probable that this is what is already being done even here now in Venice and all over the world. It would not be left to a little one like me to think of it. What an idea for the brothers at home to laugh at!” “Some people do think these things,” I admitted. “But do not all?” asked Brother Leo, incredulously. “No, not all,” I confessed. “_Andiamo!_” said Leo, rising resolutely. “Let us pray to the Madonna. What a vexation it must be to her and to all the blessèd saints to watch the earth! It needs the patience of the Blessèd One Himself, to bear it.”